Bread Soup

Chicken stock reduced to nectar;
yesterday's bread. The herbs: parsley
(of course), sage, a pinch of thyme.
When the soup is ladled into
the bowl, she adds a tiny ring;
mist rises, as from a lake.
The king's after-the-ball supper…
He marvels at the taste — then finds
the ring no one has put there.
This night of mysteries will be
repeated twice — till she has danced
in the dresses of moon, and stars,
watched the golden reel and spindle
vanish beneath teasing vapour…
A king satisfied, but hungry.
Finally, there's no time left
to change back into a fur-ball
daubed with soot. At the table,
the king spies a Parian finger
wearing the ring he slipped on it.
With all dues paid to the story
she was trapped in, the new queen robes
herself in old innocence;
turns to embrace her future.