Something Wicked

In this spring of discontent When fair is foul and foul is fair Something wicked this way comes And floats, invisible, on air. To be or not to be is not The question underlings must ask For though a serpent’s tooth is sharp It might be hidden by a mask. We cannot protest too much For mortals everywhere are fools. Of course, methinks, upon this stage So many players break the rules. Indeed, a man can die but once But we are pricked and poisoned, still, Walking shadows in a tale Forewarned in borrowings from Will.* *an homage to William Shakespeare, on his birthday Forgive my lack of quotation marks…