Saturday, August 20, 2016


You say I imagine it all
When I tell you fairies exist
But what else tends the world
To its flowered summer grace
I have sat among trees at dusk
As they appear in the twilight
Older than the moss on ancient stones
And younger than dawns' dewy kiss
And this privilege did not find me
Soak me in enchanted favour
Drip by surprising drip
For we see only that we believe