The sun is here, where history
revives for modern eyes to see;
on battleground and jousting field
through mimicry is truth revealed.
Each fighting face is burnished red
when helm is lifted from the head;
the only rust will come from sweat
at this, the warmest battle yet.
Under the trees in dappled shade
we spread our feast, hear music played.
Reclining comfortably we say,
“I’m glad I’m not a knight today.”