The Fairy Folk

The Fairy Folk

In summer heats, when the sultry air is breathlessly still,

I lie in sun-dappled shade by the glen’s sparkling rill.

In the silent stillness, tall grassy ferns move apart

And a nervous, quivering butterfly gives a start.

The bluebell carpet moves and sways to a force unseen

To human eye – but the blackbird sees with vision keen

And welcomes the arrival of fairy guests with song.

Yellow dandelions and red campions yield to the throng

Mysterious denizens of an invisible realm;

Inhabitants of some strangely other-world stratum –

A parallel, real but intangible universe.

And there, in that hushed shady glen, is voiceless converse;

With such happy singing, laughter, all gossamer light.

This leafy glen’s a busy crossroads that’s out of sight.

The unseen fairy-folk laugh at our lack of vision

And we, on our part, hold the wee folk in derision.

Both realms are real and overflowing with teeming life –

One filled with carefree laughter and the other, careworn strife.

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