The papers had no words today,
And the news was done in mime.
All the squires sang in silence,
While the thirteenth hour chimed.
The knights went off to Nowhere
To explore that distant land.
Everyone was much impressed
When they returned with empty hands.
We distilled all the whispers
Into a drink and drank
A silent toast in honor of
The artist that drew a blank.
If the papers have words tomorrow,
I wonder what they'll say
About all the many things
That were never done today.
Intermission photo courtesy of "alumroot"