They Healed a Dying Oak
Once upon an autumn eve,
faeries danced among the leaves
of a great old oak, deep in the woods,
that sits behind my neighborhood.
So delicate, these sprites, they be,
an enchanting vision’s what I see.
luminescent in the full moon’s light,
lovely little twinkling lights.
Like dancers around the maypole, they
sang and danced, in a charming way.
Their tiny voices, barely heard;
no other life there, even stirred.
Ethereal chanting, tranquilized me,
while they healed an old oak tree.
Vibrations swift, in woodfae song,
fairy medicine, it is quite strong.
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