What to do when one doesn’t want to get on the merry-go-round or the Ferris wheel, but has a phone and a piece of blue lace agate in the pocket.
Redite
fortuitous encounters of words and sights
Odds and Lens 
Such was the fashion for a short season
In the far-off days of the merry-go-round
For eccentrics of high polish to tumble about
With gemstones tucked in their pockets
Which every so often they would draw
From snugness and raise up to the eye
Ocular pomanders vaguely occult
Gleaming talismans against tedious looks
Such an odd fashion for a short season
On the sunlit quays of seaside towns
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Such is the power of Northern Cockaigne that, misty or sunny, its skies will revive the decadent soul.
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