The Earle of Bay

On battle campaign Saturday mornings, not long after the day’s dawning,
the aroma of freshly rolled hay, before the tents pitched,
crept up my nose and itched.
I knew what this message meant: later today there would be two armies and their fighting stars aligning.
A bit after noon, a silver messenger flew high in our heaven, twinkling, spinning, gleaming, and shining,
It landed before the eleven. The chosen warriors would take to the field to defend our haven. The Earle of Bay was summoned: his commission was victory.

Two of the foes in full armor marked their claim to territory, at the threshold of their 3 columns castle: to take their bales of territorial claim would be a marathon wrestle.
His forces set, all in formation, the Earle of Bay, his back to the southern savannah and the sea, the woods before him, drew abreast of the battle line.
He had with him, his six dragons.

The northern swordsman, his back to the woods, faced towards the Earle of Bay, who wheeled on his sole steels, 50 yards or so south.
Then at the battle commanders signal, he unleashed one dragon and charged.
He raised dragon one close to the Sun, then hurled him like a comet.
He hit the ground like thunder, just in front the northern swordsman leg armor, then sprang in a sudden red streak at his throat.
He strained on his tiptoes, his back and face arched away, he raised his mighty willow sword covering his face, neck, and chest.
Dragon one a red blur passing dangerously close. The chief custodian snatched him from midair, to return him to his lair.


All around the battle ground, loud roars were the only sound.
To the east, above in the blue, Flying fish in a bow formation,
ever ascending and climbing to cloud city nation.
While along the western border mine, the water million bosses held the lines.
In support of their colors their hearts aligned and against their foes maligned.

In rapid flight, the Earle of Bay fired off dragons 2, 3 and 4.
The northern foe tapping the ground with his willow to summon power: flashing, cutting, slashing, and hitting high and low, the red darting about like lightning with each blow struck. The dark carbon forces in their all whites, like worshipers around a golden altar: making sacrifices against the red in running, jumping, leaping, and diving, almost like priestly writhing.

The battle commander motionless and unmoved, astride this particular universe.
Roars vibrating all around, shaking the ground.
The Sun blazing down, on every face a squinting frown.
The pitch aroma seasoning the air.
The eleven watching for dragon strikes, as 5 was now free from its lair.
The Flying fish still climbing high in the east, as one yelled here comes the beast.

Dragon 5 attacked suddenly, burning through the castle defenses.
The Earle of Bay then circled north. He raised high in the sky; the Earle could really fly. His strategy, fire a direct block hole yorker from up high.
Then he released dragon 6, like a supernova from the dark of a black hole, it burned through the willow and nuked the three-column castle,
reducing its foundation to mortar in a pestle.
The tail end then collapsed pitifully.

A great roar erupted, heating the air like lava, burning in the fiery Sun.
The battle commander, from beneath his wide solar brim, signaled the battle won.
The supporting bosses and villagers saluted the conquering pillagers.

The Earle of Bay and his forces had seized the day. The bosses would with good drink and food, reward the warriors who fought bravely today.
They departed the field for the pavilion tents, above the Mill, below which the little stream flowed, down to the secret sea tunnel.

Both the victors and the vanquished reminisced their fallen heroes and discussed how and where they lay.
All raised toasts with great drams of sway, in their enthusiasm for life and play.
All to the Earle of Bay respect did pay.
This was the tradition and the way.
Mutual respect was the currency of the day and, all knew to pray, for longevity of days, before facing the dragons of the Earle of Bay.

After many campaigns, a long 82 days, the Earle of Bay had one last play.
After much earthly and spiritual travail, he faced the journey of the eternity trail.
Wisely, at this battle line, he made the good confession.
Thereby by completing his earthly session.
Now recalled at the completion of his earthly tour of duty,
on his homeward journey, he crossed the veil without earthly booty.
Over there he would rejoice to see unveiled, his rest, reward, and salvation true.
Also, some family and old friends and foes too, who crossed before, would welcome him too, to share in their joy eternal, high beyond the white cloud blue.