The Fairy Tree

Every time I tire of life,

Solace is found in woods.

Canopies shade my fears 

Trickling crystal waters

Alleviate my cares.

Minerals run wild despite

Ancient cold inertia

Restoration once more 

Imbues my weary bones.

This year, though, I stumbled

Upon a precious thing,

Which, as it stands today,

Offers no subtle hint

Of what should be and what

Should be left undisturbed.

A floral cherry nest,

That, wide enough to sleep

Waking Titania

And low enough to hide

A dozen timeless imps,

Stands proud, renewed, refound.

Do I leave it there in-
Tact, or do I dare touch

The fragile white blossom

Clinging to the branches,

Like bats in stormy nights?

I peer inside and see

A sleeping queen woven

Into the knowing bark.

Footmen, fairy princes,

Sing a verse from my youth:

‘For love awake or love asleep

Ends in a laugh, a dream, a kiss,

A song like this.’

I freeze inert, in awe,

Aghast that I might fright

This chance apparition.

Suspended like the Sibyl

She stirs not for me.

But I , as old as watch-

Ful man walked by that day,

And never saw again

Your eyes, your face, your skin,

Such grace, beauty, mystery,

As that lost silvan djinn. 

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