Relics

EBONY chest, dusty from decades in the
ATTIC, rests patiently with its treasures within:
CONCH from the tropics, teeth and claws from the jungle,
STAFF from the icy mountains climbed long ago.

Unexpected

STILTS my head was tottering on;
CAPER my soul did, at an awkward
ANGLE, the night I saw the staid pastor,
CIGAR in mouth, smoking in a manner untoward.

Dragon on Stilts

ANGLE on life: carefree and playful, Grab
CIGAR from humidor, then up onto, one hop,
STILTs, in TRex costume, all swooshy step.
CAPER! Littlest kids will recall a dragon’s strut.