The Minstrel's Song

He arrived 'late', ushering in his person through the kitchen, so as not to disturb the communication already occuring.

He took a seat on the ottoman, it's welcome platform embracing his frame and uprighting the psaltry of six strings that lie hidden within it's cloth covered case.

He waited.

A break in conversation pursued him, as welcoming 'hello's' and 'how are ya's' jostled around the room, assuring him that his decision to join the gathering of faithful followers was a positive one.

It felt good to be needed.

The panorama of discussion braved the timid of heart, encapsuled those who sought acceptance in thier expression, and beckoned for the honor of the presence of the King ~ an enduring mark of the shared meal, comfortable communication, and familial bondings they all experienced.

Soon, and very soon, the minstrel's song would be heard . . .

and the King would find His place among them, enthroned on thier praise; comfortable in His surroundings; pleased with the offering of love that filled the air with an aroma unmistakeably known.