By Scott Bailey © 2013

Archibald the Wizard
Is a very dodgy man.
He seeks out naughty snowstorms
And sends them to Japan.

He’d like to paint Picasso
Or Cézanne if he could.
He sends up purple smoke signs
From a tower in the wood.

He strums a harp a little
And bangs an old tin can.
Has Beaujolais on chips
According to the plan.

He strikes an unheard chord
In the hearts of all he sees.
But still he sends those snowflakes
Over oriental Seas.

Cross him at your peril
As many have found out.
Beneath his smoking jacket
Lies a sherry lout.

He doesn’t care for you or me
He doesn’t care at all.
He plots and schemes and gurgles.
Behind his wobbly wall.

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams