The magic of the evening,
Shadows growing long,
The sun is almost setting
As the fairies sing their song:
"Dance among the daffodils.
Laugh among the angels.
Waltz into the meadow.
Whistle to the tinkling bells.
"Run away with unicorns,
Creatively glorious!
Float away in sweet escape
From a life laborious.
"Come with me to Fairy Land.
Prance among the dryads.
Live imagination
With the pixies, sprites, and naiads."
Her lithe form dances in the
wood.
Would
that her wings were real.
Her fairy eyes
windows to a
wondering
wandering
soul.
Her words like music
notes
inspire me like a
muse,
enthralling.
Whirling
twirling
in a dance that is
life.
Some days the melody
is easier to follow
than others.
Don't stop dancing fairy.
Never stop dancing.
When the moon rises high
with the whole world in its eye
the fairy goddess of the sky
alights upon it in velvet night
oh the beauty! what a sight!
and once again when it is light
she rises off its crescent horns
to sleep amid the clouds
which feel of the softest downe
and there in the time when everything slows
lay the moon fairy
sleeping among moonbeams
and rays of golden sun
now it is morning
she's had her fun
until once again the moon returnes
she'll dance amid the silvery ferns
of moonlight-gilded
dream-woven
dark velvet night
Beneath the thin blades of grass
And the spindly stalks of marigolds
Lies a fairy with wings of glass
Her dress spinning with leafy folds
Her hair is woven with an iris petal
And her eyes shimmer like liquid metal
She hides behind the thorny nettle
With the wind she flutters
Joined by a hummingbird
With a laughing voice she utters
The singsong call of a butterfly word
Clothing herself with glowing pastels
Her voice sounding like crystal bells
From the daisy patch in which she dwells
There is but one thing she dislikes
And that is the shroud of darkness
For when the shadow strikes
She feels upon her a lonely stress
She ignore
clearly nothing
can matter taken against the
green rich and fragrant muddied moss
soil covered in pine needles and rain
bark rough under the fingers\' probing touch
warmth against cool surface against fevered desire
to blend in
to the shadows
in the branches low swaying & heavy wet
where dreams play out like morning mist
across the meadow
slow & luxurious luscious
languid visions voluptuous with night\'s
lurid advances
she moves & she tenses the moment
tip-toes slowly awakened from her need
-MZ (03)
Trees
Whisper dark secrets to the wind,
Branches outstretched, reaching.
Roots straining through pitch-black soil, last chance,
Winter setting in, dread.
Pestilence abound, desperate,
Nutrients in rare store.
Watchers of us all, guardians,
Protectors of the young.
Sanctuary of the wood nymphs,
Wise old elms, young new oaks.
One forest, a committee new,
Newly sprung from ages.
One's meeting place, another's home,
Universal thinking.
Trees, holder of all our secrets.