Premonition Plays Herself Out

Cool, crisp, oxygenized country air Bullfrogs croak at the cattails where minnows hide Pond perks up around seven a.m. as farmer is feeding the stock A feeling of summer wafts through the tree line. Wait whisper the robins; she is not here yet, but she is coming. Anticipation sparkles on the dew of the wild flowers. She is a sprite, metallic in appearance Nothing like they had expected, ethereal, pure-blooded. As promised, she dips a lone bucket into the pond’s middle. Pond allows her to collect two catfish and sixteen minnows. She departs as silently as she had arrived, Taking her new pets to the glorious bowels of Faerie Land.