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The Nocturnal Sojourn
Natasha Mazerolle /  Thu, 06 Jan 2022

At dusk I hear the tinkling of bells

The start of a fairy brigade

Joyously marching from the dells

The company’s hair all in braid

Their cheeks like roses in bloom

Their finery of grand emeralds and jade

The clearing, their will’o wisps illume

And then the dance starts

And so expels my gloom

Their actions fast, their movement like darts

Their banter merry and full of cheer

How easy, I think, it must be for them to steal hearts

When the sun rises, my visitors disappear

Oh, how I cannot wait for their visit next year