Changeling, sprite,
loose-limbed motion
as you fly in the night.
Rub your wings together;
create a cascade of sound
that drenches our ears
as you fall to the ground.
Gossamer beauty,
so delicate yet strong--
Fold your wings around me;
I belong in your song.

I was never told
To behold

The tears
Carrying all my fears

To let them flow
For the glow

To pay the price
For snatching the prize

To let someone die
On the mere roll of the die

I was never told
To behold

The dance of the fairies
Amongst fires in the prairies

Of the sacrifice
For the fool’s paradise

I was never told
To behold

The danseuse death
In her fight with fate

The glory bequeath
With the fory dead

I was never told

To prepare myself
To fight herself

To wrench my prize
From someone her size

I was never told
To behold

People’s fate
In someone’s gait

To let the decision
Be forsaken of vision

I was never told
To behold

The dance of the dead
As if they had never bled

Their waking up again
Out of deign not disdain

I was never told
To behold

The history being rewritten
And the mysteries being smitten..

Thistledown light

Released and surfing the breeze

Up into a cloudless sky painted memory blue

Dandelion puffs

These are the fairies

At the bottom of a suburban child's garden

Tiny feet scamper across dewy seas
Firefly eyes dart amidst blades of dark green
Moonlight shines softly on faces that tease
Tiny feet scamper across dewy seas
Bobbing and hoping between limbs of trees
Teeny folk dancing that no one has seen
Tiny feet scamper across dewy seas
Leaving no footprints to tell where they've been.

Swaying in the soft gentle breeze,
succulent green leaves glisten and glow,
catching the sun's golden rays, filtering
through the coppiced canopy above,
reflecting off droplets from heaven;
Bringing the verdant vibrant woods to life.

There's many a story these woods could tell,
If only trees could talk;
Long in the night they'd stand and share,
of the songbird’s sweet call for loves lost,
the snowy owl's nocturnal adventures,
the *****’s screams of ecstasy, or pain.

And let us not forget, the forest fairies fair,
coming out to play on such a glorious morn.
Sunbathing atop a toadstool fly agaric,
Admiring the glistening golden spider's web,
Downing the nectar from a rain soaked leaf.
Washing dainty toes in the morning dew.

But don’t expect to see one.
For they are as timid as the fawn,
yet as brave as the lion.
As delicate as lace,
yet as strong as silk.
But they are there, rest assured.
Keeping the magic of the woods alive,  
protecting the spirits of the trees,
and allowing the secrets of the woods to live on,
For evermore

As I walk a meandering path
Through woodlands thoughts running through my mind.
This is my time,  to reflect, think, smile even laugh.
Halfway to home, down a small trail; I spy a circle of stones.
They appear to be hidden beneath a pile of leaves, under a big oak tree.
And I begin to wonder is this where a family of fairies live.

By day, you may not see them whilst you are walking.
The fairies keep themselves hidden from sight and you would not hear them talking.
But when the sun goes in and the moon comes out; myth has it the fairies play by the pale moon light.

I waited patiently until light turned to darkness.
I was rewarded as I witnessed the most spectacular show;
hidden from view, the fairies did not know.
Three fairies in total, all in sparkly fairy dresses;
their hair fell down their backs in long, tumbling tresses.
The fairies had glorious wings, painted the brightest of colours.
I heard them say their names were Darling, Petunia and Honour.
The eldest one I heard call Darling she had a beautiful voice; you should have heard her sing.
The fairy called Petunia was the pale faced beauty of Exetonia.
Finally, Honour appeared a tomboy with short hair and plenty of dirt on her.

All three of them were very tiny as one would expect.
Can you imagine if I told you they were no bigger than a *******?
I watched as they sat in a circle, legs crossed, whispering and giggling.
Then suddenly they clapped their heels,  flapped their wings, and took off to the skies.
The three fairies flew so high, suddenly to my eye they looked like three dragonflies.
They glided and swooped, they dived and hovered.
They flew under branches and over treetops.
They raced each other, 1,2,3 go.
Petunia I think was the youngest and she was quite slow.
The fairies continued flying until the moon went in and the sun came out.
Then they flew down to the ground and went back to their home.
Under the leaves, in a circle of stone.

Now when I am out walking.
And a dragonfly flutters by.
I wonder if this is really Darling, Petunia  or Honour.
I wonder if the fairies, knew that I had spied upon their manor.

The next time a dragonfly passes you by just give a little wave and say hi – you never know it may be one of the fairies or indeed all three.