Elfin Spring
Down by the soily brook they go, under the woody bridge.
The Featherly Elfins make their home to hide from the Blustery Fridge.
Made of snow and windy blow, icesickles in his hair,
he comes to still the Valleyville, blowing crystals in the air.
The Elfins chug their gluggy mugs and toast with foamy tea,
Chanting songs of winters gone to wake the Bloomy Be.
The flutterbys fill uptop skies with gillians of yellowy wings,
The Elfins song brings summer on over the melty cling.
Baby seeds roll up their sleeves to poke the icy ridge.
Down by the soily brook, we’re told, under the woody bridge.
Copyright © Jaye Showalter | Year Posted 2019
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