#fairy land
The air is crisp with autumn promise,
fills the senses with the smoky scent
of a fired-up wood burning stove.
A woodland fairy dances past us
carrying colorful leaves of yellow and orange.
She twirls and twirls until she is quite dizzy
scattering puffs of dirt and dust into the air.
We hear her voice singing a sweet invitation
to run and caper beside her tiny frame.
Her magical laughter tickles our ears
as we learn to accept the unexpected.
The trees prepare themselves for bed
as we hunker down for the night
warm beneath our hand-crafted feather quilt.
The air is crisp and scintillating outside.
We see dots of light as the woodland fairy
dances past our window one more time.
The Autumn Fairy
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Dim vales—and shadowy floods—
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can’t discover
For the tears that drip all over
Huge moons there wax and wane—
Again—again—again—
Every moment of the night—
Forever changing places—
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces
About twelve by the moon-dial
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down—still down—and down
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain’s eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be—
O'er the strange woods—o'er the sea—
Over spirits on the wing—
Over every drowsy thing—
And buries them up quite
In a labyrinth of light—
And then, how deep!—O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they toss,
Like——almost any thing—
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before—
Videlicet a tent—
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies,
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again
(Never-contented things!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.
Fairy-Land by Edgar Allan Poe
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The Fay had flown from fairy-land
To usher spring on earth;
With golden tresses, wand in hand,
Her beauty caused much mirth.
Like butterfly, white winged, she came
In flowing bridal veil;
And as she trod the world, the dame,
Flowers of hues filled dale.
The air perfumed spread far and wide
And lured insects and birds;
She glanced around landscape with pride,
And spoke soft verdure words.
The queen of seasons, spring brought cheer
And winter vanished fast;
Then came all beasts including deer,
Victim of magic cast.
Spring’s Fairy Queen by John Celes
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