Puss in boots: a fairy tale retold, by Peter Shilston

The miller's youngest son set out to seek his fortune, accompanied only by his cat, Puss. After they had walked for several days, they noticed a royal cortege approaching, and Puss told the young man to undress and jump into a nearby river.
   Puss then ran up to the King's coach, calling, "Help! Help! My master, the Marquis of Carabas, was bathing in the river, and robbers have stolen his clothes!"
   The royal carriage stopped, and the King motioned to the young man to stand up in the water, which fortunately was deep enough to come up to his waist.
   "Goodness!" exclaimed the princess,who was accompanying her father, "What a handsome young man!"
   "That's as maybe", said the King, "But I don't think I've ever met the Marquis of Carabas. Do any of you know him?" he asked the courtiers. But it turned out that none of them had ever met such a person either.
   "I must say", mused the Lord Chamberlain, "He doesn't strike me as being a nobleman. Look at his hair! Look at his hands! Now then", he said to the young man, "Can you name any nobleman who will vouch for you?"
   But of course the miller's youngest son couldn't.
   "He doesn't talk like a Marquis either!" was the Lord Chamberlain's verdict. "And if he is a Marquis, why does he choose to bathe in this muddy river? Hasn't he any lakes or streams on his estates?"
   The King considered. "Now look here, my man", he pronounced eventually, "I've no idea who you are. We'll give you some clothes to make you decent, then you'd better be on your way. If you really are the Marquis of Carabas, then I apologise, but you surely understand that we can't be too careful with strangers in these dangerous times".
   So the Lord Chamberlain gave the miller's youngest son a set of clothes and a few coins, and warned him not to come near the King again. 
   "The cat, however, is a different matter", said the King. "Just fancy: a cat that talks! Would you like him as a pet, my dear?" he asked the princess.
   "Oh, yes please daddy!" she exclaimed.
   So the miller's youngest son walked disconsolately away, but Puss was taken to the palace, where he lived happily ever after.

Blessing from Brigid, by Bethany Rivers

 

Blessing from Brigid –

 

“May your voice unfold like a velvet robe,

like foxglove leaves or heartsease.  May your song

colour the hushing sunsets off your favourite coast;

feathering away the edges of the horizon.

 

May your ink-well be oak rooted: let your brush

dip and fly; susurrate in the swooping tail-flow

of red kites.  May the wooden flute play

high luting melodies to cleanse your mind,

 

let the double bass vibrate, gyrate your hips

into figure of eights.  May rainbows waterfall

through your thirsty heart, drink the cocktail

of sun and rain.  May your mind be ignited

 

with lightning sparks.  Come join the dance

of moonbeams and fire-fairies; daisy link your ancestors

to your new born in the dark: this is the thread

from which we weave our songs of hope, of pain and of poetry."