the fae

Down amongst the wispy moors and sleeping trees

lives a peculiar people. Their beauty is quite bewitching

these Elysian beings. Concoctions of colors, 

lilac and peach, and ears elongated into sharp points.

Rosewoods and rhododendron boulevards where sunbeams glitter

and dance. They drink from acorns and leaves. While the bells chime

with the scent of Lily of the Valley. The Fair Folk are not so fair, indeed.

Lonesome creatures of Dionysus’ seed. They tell no lies 

but weave truths as intricate as grape vines and ivy leaves.

Hedonistic by nature they are drunk on honey and wine. 

Don’t dare to dance, or your feet shall never cease. 

Intoxicating as it may seem, don’t ever feast; rose jam 

and fresh buttered bread will be quick to ensure you never leave.

Always carry rowan and ash, in case you encounter these.

Gossamer gowns and crowns of antlers and elderberries.

Moth wings, butterfly earrings, and hats of tulips.

Their revels, which last ‘til the final hour of moonrise—

sharp symphonies of harp, violin, and accordion played

by sleepy squirrels. Drunk and foolish, the fae will engage in their 

mean games, forcing humans to lap up honeysuckle and wine.

When the sun slices the night, they’ll sleep, only to do it all over again.

Moon rivers that carry the scent of plump spring figs.

They reside in the glens of the highlands and beneath

mushroom circles that spring from wet soil in autumnal rains.

They’ll ride their ragwort steads or leaping toads some even have

their own wings. Nymphs, pixies, gnomes, and selkies are all the Fae.

Don’t seek them out or give them any thought, some

curiosities best remain untamed.