Swan Fairies
Where gentle swans peek through the mossy reeds
And fairy children huddle by the bank,
There, giant muddy roots slide through the dank,
Opaque mid-morning mist and thistle weeds.
On bracken moors, pink hawthorns prod the air
As heather scents are carried on the breeze.
The fairy folks gather beneath huge trees,
Where they reside, their secret, ancient lair.
Long, pollinating cattails puff with gold.
The kingly swan, his bill like ebony gleams;
He trumpets, while his lovers grace the streams
And morning’s obtuse orb beams on the wold.
A silken bridle, rhinestones on each rein,
They keep inside the hollow fairy tree,
Is now brought out; the fairies happily
Clap dainty hands and glide down the terrain.
They spy the regal swan a’gliding by
And chant a spell to bring him to the shore
And bridle him, so he will nevermore
Alone, in silence, cross the Celtic sky.
