Fearsome former Kings of Jungle,
Recumbent now in peace you slumber,
your toothless duty: guarding Shakespeare’s mighty works.
Past deeds of kill and plunder
for protection of your lair
now long forgotten, unaware.
Your loins and manly manes in soft repose
as you uphold aright a shelf of prose…
No piercing growls release to warn, defend,
____Even Kings fall silent at the end.
Posted with kind permission of the author.
This ode was among more than 100 responses to our invitation to write an ode to an “ordinary thing.” We share it here with delight and gratitude.
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