Sitting in Michael's Lap
Your meter dances like a lilting song,
Your diction toes the realm of the divine;
Such verses in anthologies belong ...
(in other words, this piece was mighty fine!)
But, no less than I have come to expect from you. It's refreshing to read the writing of someone who so obviously cherishes the English language ...
Keep 'em coming, ma'am ...
"Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, morierus"
(Now as I hear this bell tolling softly for another, it says to me, "Thou must die.")