IN A TAVERN NEAR PARIS IN THE YEAR 1463

Where are the snows of yesteryear,

you ask, son of Montcorbier -

or was it Loges? I forget.

If I would be a learned man,

talented with the arts,

like you, priest-to-be,

I would point to the rain

hammering on the roof,

but, being heavily

rooted on the earth, not

one of the learned denizens

of your university,

gazing at the clouds, 

I will just throw a coin

on the table, and say that

they used the snows of yesteryear

to dilute the wine

served in this tavern;

you will soon be pissing

them on the alley mud -

and keep that knife

in its sheath;

a man can escape the gallows

'only' twice.

24.03.2021