Foretellings from one of the Fey

A rustling in the shrubs

Alerts me to astounding wonder

Could it be a momma bear with her cubs?

Curiosity strikes me like yellow-white thunder.

The day had fallen and the moon hung-

A silver smudge, a sickly sickle

Behind the witchy smog, thick with mug

A backdrop against my stark curiosity-tickles

as a wee fairy spirited away from the foliage.

Leaves cling to its bark-like flesh

And smattering of flowers acknowledged

In its thistle-like hair and woven dress

The Good Folk with dragonfly wings

With a walking stick made of hazel wood-greeted me with a smirk-

Inhuman eyes stark with wisdom and things

Black and deadly like a shark.

Voice as lovely as a mourning dove–

She told me a warning–

That I would soon fall in love

Eyes glossy and heart a flutter the next morning–

He would be fashioned in shadows

but a heart made of the finest gold–

He would take away the ever present sorrow

And our love would be a sight to behold–

But, but, but

I must prove myself worthy

To enjoy my pot of pure luck

A future set in stone–no longer blurry.

Taking the candy from my pocket

I thanked the fairy–

Her eyes wide as she beheld the chocolate–

smile a crescent, no longer wary.

…