It was once said in the time of Prince February, the shortest

ruler with the meanest of dispositions, that Tiresias once exposed

the fallacy of droplets of Poseidon’s tears

outnumbering the grains of sand felt between the blue eyes of the tired

and miserable and multiplied

by the grains of sand felt beneath the hooves of the far flung desert camel.

 

February tossed this so called joke aside, as he wished he could

have done to Tiresias with his all-knowing twinkle in his eye.

“Absurd”, February was prone to mutter loudly as he paced the halls

in which his mother had bled as she gave birth to him

in ignominy as the clock struck twelve, as it always had, on the last day of

her short but interesting life.

Now, as he slept soundly as the wiser King

March, he marched headlong into solving the puzzle that had vexed

and irritated him, displeased him and troubled him, in equal insane manner.

 

“I bring news for the Royal personage”, cried Tiresias, his eyes sightless

but gifted in other talents and had eased the mind of all his Queens before him

as they realised that life was indeed short and that for

the following year to come, to bother and gratify,

to annoy and adore all in the valley below

in the same equal measure as shown to the dying King, this moment

time must begin again, time, the slowing of the clock,

the inverted becoming clearer and more rationale, the King must die

for the Year and her champion Queen to live.

 

Tiresias stood at the head of the prone form of his new Queen

and marvelled at the sincere change in appearance

and hoped that fates allowed the transformation in mind, from eager

desperate maddening despot, full of cold annoyance

and willing to drive hunger into the sternest of resolves

to kind magnificence, Red haired April’s blankets to sweep the ground

as her delicate true nature, no longer hindered

by thought of war, by mechanic, macho type heroics

and let cousin Winter die along with her former life.

 

“Awake, dear majesty, let your eyes open on this day

and see what could be once more. Let not your

screaming, idolised and fable like delivery into the world,

celebrated by Gods and the sound of exploding fireworks temper your thoughts

or cloud Queen April’s Judgement and compassion.

Though you are new born, you have an example to lead

the people of your domain, be gentle Queen April, be fruitful

and no longer barren, for on this day, you carry

both your future doom and the hope that the cycle begins as it must

with the birth of your cold hearted child, Prince January.”

 

The eyelids of the new Queen fluttered, the waking coma ended,

as it always must, and Tiresias smiled,

his job complete for another year.

“Awake Queen April, see your realm and command Winter banished

from your domain, take your place oh woman reborn,

for Mad King March is dead

and you have but nine months to live.”

 

Ian D. Hall 2015.