Little Arthur

This one first found the light of day (as part of the NaPo 06 debacle) as the poem then entitled "Something Maurice Learned from a Book". It's not just the title that has undergone radical change in the past hour or so:

Little Arthur

Now the spore has touched the ant
it must sprout and down its steed:

white threads needle over barding;
sharp tips lance the pauldron gaps.

Once in, it knits itself a new flesh
between the silks of muscle and fat.

A ring of barbs crowns the head
beneath the bascinet, to rule the beast.

Come dawn, an ant clambers the length
of a long stalk to view its domain;

it lifts the belly to salute the crowds
scurrying below, servicing the realm.

When the grail erupts from the armour
spores shower down: Camelot blooms.