Fierce Winds

 
 
‘T was on a sojourn, many miles I’d gone,  
‘Low xanthene sky of pink and bluish red.  
And heard the zephyr’s xylophone in song,  
When I’d arrive ‘neath Xanadu’s sunrise.  
 
Wrapped in a flowing xanthic saffron robe,  
While on a ladened Xebec sailing ship.  
I looked across the prow at dawn’s first strobe,  
The thrill against my heaving xiphiod!  
 
Six members of the Xaverian sect;  
An order of their brotherhood by birth.  
Were on their way to witness for the Church,  
To convert souls to raise them from the dirt.  
 
It wasn’t meant to be a merry band,  
They strained to know about the new old world.  
To wander through a strange and mistic land,  
And look a naked savage in the eye.  
 
And yet in spite, we’d all heard tell the tales;  
Of how ingenious, cultured, good and pure.  
Now there we stood - the savages prevail  
What did we have of theirs in which to lure?  
 
The missionaries came to study them,
These people mythical that lived so long.  
Who tilled, turned & gathered lightheartedly,  
Harvesting children each day with a song.  
 
Excelled in the making and uses of  
Xylene for the industry of printing.  
And their exquisite abilities in  
the Teak-crafting art of xylography.  
 
But I hoped to learn how, scant amounts of  
Xenon in the thin atmosphere, supplied  
Light for their nights in a valley fringed by  
Snowbound mountains that held back...  
 
...t h e   f i e r c e    w i n d s