Of Sweet Mossflower

Dear Brian Jacques,

In the warm palm of a countryside

rang tunes of peace,

sung by shrews on rivers.

Hidden in the shrubbery lay

a band of vermin, eyes seeped in

trouble. They drew their quivers.

A captain and a lizard succumbed to

the rolling storm of violence.

Winds of fortune kept farmers marooned

on salty, brittle ground—a moth-eaten garment

for an isle. Greed guides such villains

on the sea, searching for lost pearls, strewn.

These stories shirk not from tragic end.

Whether with mousy shrews or shrewd

mice, villains pillage, sea ships sink.

Terrors sink their adder’s teeth

where e’er the winds of malice tear,

driving vigilance to the brink.

But on the coasts, where mountain keeps,

badgering hares and hairy badgers bring

valiance, not a mere reaction of the brain

but the acts of noble thoughts and kind

hearts. Heroes come in many shapes, different

sizes. Villains share their ambition—ever vain.

These are tales of lands far away,

lost where imagination meets a page,

found when curiosity unfolds

vales of valor, meadows at mealtime.

Quarrels break upon the roof

and foxes carry treasure—stolen.

Swans guard their precious trove.

Cats and owls seal the gap

of friendships left untended.

While otters seek beneath the reeds

mice warriors face the fiercest

venom, a former tyrant, ended.

If such tales bring some slight shivers

sandstone walls ward from long-past malice.

Greeted by abbots in green peaceful habits,

a reader sits. Fire snaps playfully

in shielded hearth. Friends surround—

modest moles, heroic squirrels, and famished rabbits.

From,

A reader