Three

When shall we three meet again?
When it's time for Master Shallow;
when it's time for big Sir Jack;
when midnight chimes begin.

When circuits overload and leap
and blowouts fuse the plugs.
It's time for smacking gobs
when roarers murder sleep.

Time for Viking horns and mead
and acknowledging what we need.
Time for the Neverland
of lost boys and Peter Pan.

Time to pull from out the past
the scars of churlish time;
when hours must go to waste
in a blast of built-up steam.

When it's trinities and triangles,
isosceles and equilaterals.
When it's time to make confessions
and join our lost connections.