Wednesday, June 17, 2009
At the brim of our breath
Whilst a whim from our death
Comes, violets and yarrows in midsummer night
So solemnly embraced in lucid delight.
Fly woodcock fly over our house,
Owl, hedgehog, nightjar and mouse.
In every stone within every tree,
By every fairy, willow and bee.
Night lingers and holds our awakened hearts
At the feast, among old spirits that nest in these parts.
And at the midst of this night you stretch out in the glen.
On moss, near rosehips and loans, by meadow sweets and wren.
My Elven Queen, has been lost in a thousand years,
We rest in the green, once haunted by tears
Years, counted in seconds and weighted by hours.
Ahead of our senses by the seven of flowers.
Although, one, is the night of fairies delight¨
by the magical birth of the fawn.
In every, of a day, the dusk falls into night
and night into the mirth of the dawn.
