I, the Giant, tower high
where the Beanstalk meets the sky;
where the Charriott-Sun thunders by,
and the Witch, she dares not terry.

An immortal clansman born of fire.
To the West I shall ne'r retire;
but worship the Eastern twirling spire--
the eternally rising Sun!

I stomp the Earth, forcing fates;
to bully I don't hesitate.
Tranquility to repudiate
is my wont of earthly pleasures.

So, was I on my merry way
on this blissfully blistering scorcher day,
when much to my scorning and dismay
THAT BLASTED ANGEL CAST HER SHADOW!!!

Shooting upward my most evil-eye,
my beloved orb was gone!
How dare she dare to chill my bones???
I'll teach her to leave my Hell alone . . .

Just then my nose tickled with her feathers!

She giggled a gaggle while I suffered and sneezed.
Needless to say, I was not at all pleased
when she schmooozed, "Now Giant,
give the Light reprieve--
Come dance with the Witch in the dusk!

"Dance with HER! I can't--I won't!
and as for Dusk, you know very well-- I DON'T
Fly away now; my visions you haunt.
Let it wait 'til I can think better . . .
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

To get the most out of this, read Eileen Waldron's
"In The Shadows" first.