November 30, 2012

Gazing upon Killarney’s Flesk river,
where the dense green twining ivy grows.
There, a canopy of moss laden trees,
craves the fine mist as the swift river flows.

Flowing and moving over time-worn stone,
pounding and shaping every curve and dip.
Evening brings creatures down to the still pools,
for a long awaited cool and quenching sip.

The forest takes on a new dimension.
The changing light makes you question your eyes.
You turn your head, wondering what you saw;
perhaps a small bird, maybe Dragonflies.

Green hues explode in the filtered sun light.
Your senses tingle, but you know not why.
Dusk is the time when magic comes to life;
everything shimmers and pleases the eye.

Those who hold dear their childhood wishes,
will know forest magic and have no doubt.
Dragonflies morph into dancing light beams,
then hundreds of faeries fly all about.

Safe are we in the Forest Killarney.
A faery-spell veil keeps danger away.
Elixir of Blackthorn and faery dust,
makes us faery small...we can fly and play.

The sky grows dark. The horned owls hoot loudly.
A bonfire is lit ‘neath the rising moon.
Moss covered branches make soft seats for rest,
as faeries they hum a night forest tune.

I carefully listen, watch and I learn,
from the stories shared of times long ago.
Faeries, keepers of magic and knowledge;
I am humbled to find just how much they know.

Humbled this night by the gift of welcome;
the child I was, in glimpses I see.
Growth, true release and wisdom have followed
my sober return to reality.