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