the denouement (the final stanzas of my novella-poem, "Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons")

in the disgruntled wake of sidestepping mushrooms

not harming a twig or a tuft of grass

the cottage untucked in opaque prisms

its ponderous baggage of unassuming mass.
the cedars and willows that midwifed the housing

had scooped with their roots a well-watered place

so their prodigal cousin could swathe his wounds

in their weave of greeting and swaying embrace.

winding down flights and wafting rafted lovers

the flurry regifted its ambient glow

settling blush like a sigh on the hollow,

re-sowing roses in drifts of fragrant snow.

a bevy of rainbows sampled iridescence

on unforeseen hues in patches of sky

enticing dartings to shimmering pastures,

setting fleet jewels in the blink of an eye.

though the nannies fussed at the fledgling's landfall

and reignited love arrived on its knees

the deftly clambering acclimatizing vines

docked the outcrop with astonishing ease.
dangling their jangle of sapphire bells

sprinkling contentment on the petal-dusted breeze,

their curious twinings folded foundlings

in amity lapping from the resonant trees.

eschewing projections of paucity

slanting the presumption of a bipolar beast

the sun and the moon mingled perspectives,

like tolerant deities at an Asian feast.

owing perhaps to this lack of exclusion

streaming from celestials sharing a sky

Chester's appearance developed the features

the reason prefers to infer for the eye.
yet the chisel of his facets never stilled,

convening his visage in a restless dance

while trembling arcs spilling dark ruby embers

proceeded from his coruscating glance.

in lieu of his transitory twilights

clairvoyance floated in on the clear clouds of night,

a roving infection of strolling passersby

with incisive preternatural sight.
Pally and Nate set the mirror by his side

sparking a fusion of rainbow-fractured light.

hence the ripples in their dappled conversation

reflected depths from a dazzling height.

and the echoes of the children abided,

decanting in Pally an urge to rejoice;

regarding occurrence with a buoyant delight

from the margins of his generous voice.

on Mock's extensions reeling past the limbs

tugging the willow to compassion's new bower,

a riot of color had just broken out

from myriad buds coming into flower.
emerging from the spookhouse trailing his pollen

like a shuffling incarnation of spring

he seemed of a piece with the cosmic mushrooms

scooting about in their psychedelic ring.

tripping on the train of his traipsing garden

while stooping to pluck a most promising weed,

Rashful stuffed his pipe and wryly observed

"and to think this started when Sappy went to seed."
crouched nearby in the creeping juniper,

sniffing out the instincts of the spindly Dame

Sleazy cradled his delicate burden

on the fall-proof boughs of an ever-growing frame.

reacquainting their subtle discernment

with the tenanted vessels escorting their friend

Pasty's familiars discovered in silence

the caress of the trees in the sheltered bend.
and the brush of antlers and scenting of glands

infused devotion in the welcoming blend

that was braided in a sanctuary circle

and slung like a charm at their journey's end.

once everyone funneled through the gaping entry

past the lumbering bears pawing the floor

Sappy gawked at the dearth of fallen branches

and absence of lintels for framing a door.
Guanyin, in the midst of freeing a cicada

from grief-stricken drops of languishing sap

said "i wonder if it's worth more bother."

her eyebrows lifted as she ambled through the gap.

* * * * *

and the empath hadn't seen it coming
when Gropey laced his arm in the jingling vine.

but the nimble minstrel did without prompting,

clasping his too in that cleave of breathing twine.
the menagerie observed a solemn silence

yet the handfasting was wrought without words,

expressed in the rustling of sapphire bells

and proclaimed by the rhapsodizing birds.

as communal welling joined the avian throng

an ineffable miracle occurred.

for each of them voiced a unique calling

in the most complete sound that had ever been heard.
their croaks and howls and warbling trills

were requisite tones in a half-remembered chime,

strands in a fabric that hallowed the hollow

in space unplaced by the vagaries of time.

a bittersweet chill rifled through Pally

for Lumpy's faint touch possessed the hairs on his arm.

curled, crumpled hands and jagged valediction

raised in phantom welts like auguries of harm.
yet such was the stuff that fused their bonding

in the rational breach of dimensional shelves

where glimpses were burnished of what was within

on meeting the mirror and finding themselves.

"this luscious lass has something to tell you."

said Lumpy, overruling a lump in his throat.

Trixie mingled blush and blinked back a tear

while picking at frippery he'd sewn on his coat.
"your beau's right ripping.  and suited to you too,

seein' as you're both so bad at hidin' hearts.

the gang of pale stand-ins chompin' at the Gait

will never replace our dusky Queen o' Tarts.

in case i find i can't live without you

try and keep a candle lit on Aethelwort's Eve."

"we've plenty of room, Trix, and you're welcome as May.

are you ever so determined to leave?"

"the old man'll be terrible lonesome by now.

and what would 'e do without me advice?

you know how 'e frets, left on 'is ownsome.

'e wants for guidance on the crooked trail o' vice."

somewhere behind them a query was lofted.

"can you give her a lift?" inquired Guanyin.

spotting blithe nodding on a sea-green countenance

made Trixie almost jump out of his skin.

then Solomon's skull popped from its socket

and rolled along the ridges of an outstretched arm.

from there he considered the barmaid beauties,

widening his grin to waylay the alarm.
but Trixie wasn't wooed by his winsome smile

or skill skimming skulls on their wobbling tread;

failing to be gripped by clutching affection,

adeptly evading a pat on his head.

  

since Mary swooped in and scooped them both up

with flowing sleeves bowed like a sepulchral trowel

hopes for détente were fraught with conjecture,

eternally flapping in a midnight cowl.

"well, i must be off." she curtsied to the mage.

"take care of Mercy, my flighty, far-fetched gnomes.

your house is a peach.  such self-possessed delving.

unravels premises wherever it roams."
and though they'd had seats for her snappy entrance

when the banshee unfurled from sizzling crepe

as the atmosphere singed and cackles crackled

they nonetheless stared, with their mouths gone agape.

once Sylvana succumbed to Sable's sprucing

Mock tucked in his pleats, ramping close to Sludge White

quipping "what hath our ladyship to do with tears?"

but tenderness cracked and leaked through the bite.

falling in with his stems, she shuddered like their leaves,

clinging to the moss where bare shoulder poked.

"i just saw my mother."  the mirror went dim,

appalled by the anguish his talents provoked.
yet the agile quiver of Guanyin's fingers

awakened the harp strings of empathy's well,

resurrecting the scent of bygone protection;

encasing ache in perennial spell.

hedging the ancient, sympathetic magic

for channeling loss into reticent thaw

Chester's supple plying of ion desire

eked out the monkey's tranquilizing paw.
snug in the mingling Elsbeth settled softly

where Sylvana reattached to her post.

when Squint's cheeky tug at last tickled trickles

the shadow had passed from the hem of the ghost.

it was then that Pally rediscovered Gramps,

flickering persistence and translucent sheen

immersed in conversation with the otter

on a plump, plush toadstool of shimmering green.
in a heartbeat he was snapped up in tendrils,

surrounded by elation and awe-swept grace

while the empath glanced aslant at his familiar

and wonder made a beacon of his face.

the bard knelt by Squint.  "are you in on this?

those times you snuck off, were you teaching him to speak?"

his tail flapped with pride.  "that's only the half of it.

we alternate verse in primate and squeak."

as the roving deities pooled their velvet drapes

and sequins peeked through fading rainbow eaves

Gramps traced a pattern of infinite fondness

in the ceaseless murmur of his seedling's leaves.
"i've been pondering rhythms of reason,

the lure of legends, the sorrow sown in laughter.

for only mirrors composed in reflection

pose the terrain that ripples Ever After.

separation lies like the thief of time,

a buttress to balance the weight of tradition.

the space of emptiness cannot be filled

no matter how matter provides imposition.
the point of focus gives rise to the myth

that perception presides astride a position.

yet the prize that bides in compassion's sighs

by its nature cannot writhe in opposition."

the vine he was clasping curled around his wrist,

smitten with the branch that sprung its grafted friend.

"well, don't look so ruffled, me clever darlin'.

how else did you fancy our revels would end?"

* * * * *

and the wind was quite naturally taken,

clapping the curtains in a spirited guffaw.

stilling again, it asked for another.

and a quickening Mercy rushed into my paw.

* * * * *

- Evan Hawthorn, the 13^th of March, 2017