The Leader of Rings

"Roll up, roll up!"
The be-hatted man calls. White gloved hands shining in the spotlight.
The leader of rings is his name, spectacle and wonder is his game.
With a point of his cane the limelight shifts
And in from the curtain come those with gifts.
Fire and knives, heat and sharp edge.
Men as strong as the colours are bright.
Raggedy clowns with great big red noses.
Contorting girls striking unusual poses.
Sparkling assistants all feathers and sequins.
Pale ghosts spinning in the ether.
"Do not be afraid, but amazed instead!
Filled with awe and not with dread."
A swish of his tails, a stamp of his boot,
And silence befalls the audience.
He whispers so softly, smile creasing the makeup,
"I beckon you now; roll up, roll up."



There is a circus in my town. An honest to goodness, tent-raising, act-performing, circus. And a camel.
 Now as quaint as my nook of Yorkshire is compared to other cities, we do get some shows passing through now and then and sometimes they happen to be of the big-top brotherhood. Luckily for me, these travelling performers set up camp in a field I pass daily on my walk to and from work (I blog and I work, how does he do it?) and so in the mere moments we cross paths I get to peek into their lives; the lives of the latter-day jesters and bards. I for one have never been to a circus. Some of you may consider that to be a loss, others may not give a damn because you have cooler things to be doing or are too busy. But right now, as curious as I am as to the goings on inside that brightly coloured tent, a little part of me doesn't want to. The reason? Because in my mind that has been forever programmed by television, movies, books and stories galore, the circus is a place of wonder and magic. A place where everyone is forever in costume and going about their business while knives fly through the air, fire bursts from mouths and ghostly figures glide above heads, twisting and spinning on invisible wires. The nomads that drift in and out of town with their motley wagons, have an air of mystery about them, that I am more than sure would be eternally ruined by the truth.
 Childish? Most likely. Naive? Quite probably. Fun? You're damn right.

My gods, would I love to interview them though.