THE PUTRID STENCH OF INSURRECTION

the putrid stench of insurrection

wafts silently upon the midnight air

preceding whispers yet to come

emanating from one who’d dare

the despot absent 

in his place one so fair

with sweetened voice 

and brevity beyond compare

she sought the throne 

whilst he was away

and won their hearts 

she claimed the day

the early out

struck a welcome chord

eager to embrace her way

they quickly pledged their sword

with whispered promises 

they joined the clandestine plan

bracing for what must come

the return of the unsuspecting man

the stealthy blade unsheathed

waiting for its mark to meet

brandished by a foe so close

one swift stroke, betrayal complete

This poem was written to tease my wife.  She and I were serving as coordinators of the Riverton Region Addiction Recovery Program.  During one of our weekly planning meetings with the other 60 Church Service Missionaries, which I was unable to attend, my wife undermined my long-held practice of holding the meeting for 60 full minutes, regardless of need, by adjourning after only 30.  Word reached me that the joy of the missionaries at this glorious reduction in time spent was virtually uncontainable.  I sent this poem to all of the insurrectionists, which, of course, was all missionaries present.