(Pennsic War XXXII, August 2003)
Laird Colyne Stewart
Upon a brooding cliff awash in foam,
Amid the tall trees thick and verdant green,
The fiery bird of lore there makes its home,
To be born again in smoke and steam;
Once perched upon the old Duke’s sturdy arm,
The phoenix flies unfettered, bold and free;
Its claws are gentle or they can cause harm
As sure as flashing swords of chivalry;
Bright blue, stark white, its regal wings stretched wide
To shelter those over whome’er it flies,
To sally forth with knights whene’er they ride,
To be reborn again whene’er it dies;
A bird who’s brilliant plumage is so fair,
A symbol of one man, one knight, so rare.
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