The Enchanted Hour

                                                  Fairy Village

At the end of the day

When all visitors have left

The woodland people

Come out to work and play

 

Fairy people

Polish the flower petals

Straighten grasses

Mend the bent stalks

 

Imps and Elves

Gather the fallen leaves

Place them in piles

In quiet places

For hedgehogs

To make their beds

 

So all is nice and tidy

For the new days visitors

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is a delightful imaginative ditty of life after all the humans are gone. I love imagining what creatures might be "out there" . . . beyond our notice. This is a playful dynamic slice of this life, corresponding to strong artwork. I love how your detailed approach to life influences your writing, such as stanza 2 with great details of their after-hours efforts (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Wild Rose]

Thank you Margie
This is a place for imagination > on the border of the forest and the high fells
A clearing where you can sit (weather permitting) just a stroll from the car park Easy to reach by chair users up a stoney track
The art work > we take lots of the flowers & plants on our journeys
Who know what creatures live here
Oh dont touch the RED fairy houses or nasty things can happen >>> Hallucinations to beat anything you can buy > take to much - Its good bye > I tell kids the fairies put a magic spell on the to make you very sick
Once met a lady collecting them (a teacher from a city) to take to show the kids

[barleygirl]

I've written some playful poems imagining the rodents that dwell in my garden, waiting for me to turn my back so they can chomp down the parsley I'm growing for my bunnies! But your poem gives me a nudge to take this kind of imagination to the next level . . .

[Wild Rose]

Thanks Margie The stuff of imagination > The magic world of the dark night hours

[Sneh]

This is so lively and indulging one!!

[Wild Rose]

Thank you
This is an imaginative place > Picnic tables surounded by forest and other trees; a stream, footbridge across it
And yet you are on the forest edge close to a no mans land of natural plants
All bordered by the forest fence seperating the 'cultivated' land from the wild moors and high fells
Given the right weather you could sit and muse
Sit still and quiet the tiny forest birds will come the eat previously scattered crumbs