The stars were bright but soon faded, causing no small bit of anxiety of those in attendance. With good reason, as it turned out. Hearty helpings of Stoutfoot Pork Sausages, Golden Roast Potatoes, Shepherd's Pies, and Ithilien Spice Cakes were no sooner served alongside hot cups of Red Tea than the skies opened up and dropped a deluge on the intrepid poets.

All fled to the shelter of the Great Smials and stood company to Thain Paladin round the cosy main hearth while towelling off their toes.

Conviviality soon returned as newest member Miss Rozenberry shared a heartening poem about the universality of music. 

Veteran wordsmith Wybert Diggins woke Master Hartten from his nap with a terrifying work about an unquiet field spirit bent on mischief at harvest time.

Master Willywinkle gave the assembly a sneak peek at his Good to the Order speech, intended for the upcoming Show of Dogs on the 17th 

and Master Aerinbard closed the evening with a poem that seemed to leave him in need of a chair afterward.

The merry band disbanded with plans to meet next month with the theme of “Spooky” in the works.

Thain Paladin did not have much to say, a thing remarkable by all accounts.