Shrouded in the dampness that calls to midsummer's morn
she walks in silent solitude, candle in hand.
Flowing softness plays upon the subdued light
as leaves of oak sway in mysterious rhythms.
As of old, she comes upon the altar,
set there so many centuries ago.
Setting the candle upon the moss-covered table
she hums with the vibrations of the earth,
its tune filling her body with magic.
Thus it begins.
A light in her pale green eyes speak of
incantations and earthly connections.
Then with eyes closed, and mind filled with energy and light
she beckons with the words of the old ones,
calling the fairies with mindful intent.
A gift she has been given, a nature child of old,
and as the power flows through her veins
so shall she call to them, arms reaching out to embrace
that which waits at the forest's edge.
As she works her magic, life pulses in her veins,
and from the depths of her soul she awakens the sleeping sage.
Words of wisdom flow as she beseeches their presence.
Still they remain in mystery.
Then, as the dawn recedes,
the sun's first rays break upon the altar.
She bows her head, silence filling the air once again.
She leaves the glade in reverence,
her fingers sliding over the surface of the moss-covered stone.
She will come again,
It's only a matter of time.
As she turns and walks away,
the eyes of the fey peek out from the wood,
and the laughter of another world
echoes softly in the morning breeze.
I always had flights of
fancy buzzing around in my young mind, and fantastical visions of other
worlds peeking out from behind my hazel green eyes. As I got older I found
words put to paper an easy forum, and thus my poetic talents emerged.
Now, as I enter my menopausal years, and have found a new emergence of
spirit and self-renewal, I find my life blessed with creativity, love,
and joy. My most recent interest has been Middle Eastern dance, and my
latest works reflect the goddess light that burns in the motions it invokes.
May we all be blessed with such passion!