Where arrows flew, the acrid sky splits into black shards,
Opportunity awaits below- the unearned harvest,
Orchids of flesh, blood thick like honey in the mire,
Carapaces of iron gives away to even determined beaks,
There is no charitable yield from hunger,
King or serf, the itinerant does not discriminate,
The high princes who wear black cloaks,
But serve the next mouth to be fed,
A cyclical gift is spurned by the fruits of destruction,
For victorious is the soil that is wet by blood.
– – – – –
A short bit of poetry, inspired by the Battle of Agincourt (1415) , one of the final battles of the Hundred Years War where many died. It’s not the usual short story or discussion, I just wanted to share a quick thought this week on nature versus our conflicts. Hope you enjoy!
Note: Bernard Cornwell’s book “Agincourt” may be one of the best historical fiction novels out there, and one of my personal favorites. I would highly recommend it to anyone interested in this bloody and truly remarkable point in European history.
More on the Hundred Years War: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundred_Years%27_War
Battle of Agincourt: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Agincourt