Inn’s Chorus
Emma Wehrman
Chords of thunderous Laughter shove left shoulders Burst from tables scrabble up Stone to tickle tapestries Rustle chuckles in response ale’s Floating froth pops gulped Away by belchers in boots who slam Empty glass on wood tables for echoic Percussive effect calling for Ialne to bring more beer and fresh Bread she serves them with Sly wit and a smoking laugh strolls Back to the bar trusty mutt trailing Behind her while bare hands Break fresh bread wood slaps stone Yelps a chair fell and took a bread-breaking Belcher with it but he stands Back up in boots snortles with The rest turns the chair upright to Gulp away more pops floating froth crackles And snarls of fire die down to Grumbles and grimaces boots stomp Up steps ghost down creaky hall above And Ialne sits by grumpy fire mutt Beside her fingers thrushing Through coarse fur humming lulls Shrinking down with fire Until ashy cindering toil
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