Something Wicked

In this spring of discontent
When fair is foul and foul is fair
Something wicked this way comes
And floats, invisible, on air.

To be or not to be is not
The question underlings must ask
For though a serpent’s tooth is sharp
It might be hidden by a mask.

We cannot protest too much
For mortals everywhere are fools.
Of course, methinks, upon this stage
So many players break the rules.

Indeed, a man can die but once
But we are pricked and poisoned, still,
Walking shadows in a tale
Forewarned in borrowings from Will.*

*an homage to William Shakespeare, on his birthday
Forgive my lack of quotation marks…