When She Comes

When luck comes your way

You must not waste her company.

You must serve her tea and butterfly cakes,

Sprinkle her with bon mots, and sing the songs of her childhood.

You must take care but carry on as you always did. 

An honest day of being you.


Do not fritter it away like a frittery frit, for fritters are for quitters.

Never presume luck is your wife now, beholden and obeying.

Wives and luck don’t play those games.

But she will not stay for long

And she will not wait for you to be ready.


So scoop up the sky trails of spots and place in them in the fishpond for safekeeping.

Bury the coins under the carrots in the garden, where they will keep for leaner days.

Capture the whisper of her wings in the old scent bottle, in case you ever need to fly away.

Once she’s been, she won’t be back this way for a while 

But don’t imagine you are more worthy than others to have her magic.


You are no more blessed than the man who lives under the bridge.

Why him and not you?

The bridge is not particular who crosses it and who lives under it

Lucky him to have a bridge at all.

Lucky you, to have this day.