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Poem

When the king had called for counsel
And the peasants had called his bluff
The wise man scratched his greying head
And the fools had cried out "Enough"

The choices seemed to be but few
And the chooser was yet unknown
Players split about even sides
Between honey and granite stone

Would names be chiseled on a wall
Or written on invitations
The wise man scratched his head again
As he asked his God for patience

And then the crowd began to form
As voices grew shrill and louder
It became a simple choice of 
Brotherly love or black powder

11-8-18
For Contest Black Powder for Anthony Slausen

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