60 dead fairies
lay under seas:
near dry prairies,
'neath fallen trees.

one lively fairy
from distant skies
flew - though 'twas scary -
rounds for their lives.

biting each wing,
sprinkling dews,
tearing strings
of fading hues.

though 'twas in vain:
none came alive,
snowfalls and rains
fought for their lives -

cold storms were spent,
ground wells ran dry,
down trees were bent,
fires were high...

60 dead fairies
now swing with winds.
one lively fairy
now has no wings:

she rides with bees,
she moves through seas -
dwellings to find
must she for her kind!

(c)kRu, 21.12.04-18.06.05