Category: Fantasy

Autumn makes her cautious arrival

and with her

swift destruction.

Beings blind of simple beauty

crush the forest

under great slabs of cold stone.

Faeries flee to unknown depths

and cold blue-black places.

Pixies dash for safety.

All seek refuge elsewhere.

*

Ice days arrive and

I fear the desolation of clover groves

will remain unblessed with freshness.

I flee and seek refuge

elsewhere

as the pixies have.

*

And in the stagnant air of winter

when sadness

and longing for companionship is most

and past ages and warmth seem eternally exiled

I return to the desolation of the clover forests

with a silence and a cloak around me.

Wishing for a hint of what was.

*

Among the slabs

I see new fresh

leaves of three.

New trees grow

in tiny huddled green ponds

peering out at the land.

Among the brown is green

and in the stillness of winter’s eve

I see icy sunlight

and even sharper shade.

But in the shadows

peers a hope of forests

when the ponds will join.

The faeries will come

and the pixies and dwarves.

All join in the rebirth.

*

And my mind will once more

have a place to slumber

unhurried.

I will hear the distant water and play

with the little ones

in the cool

green shadows

under the four-leaved trees

in summer’s heat.