In the quiet of a summer evening,

she peered slowly around from behind the tree outside the fence . I had gone up the padock to shut the gate and all around was still...the last rays of sun flushed the darkening land with gold and I thought my heart would burst ... she was gone before she really registered although she seemed to move so slowly...maybe it was that time itself had slowed down and she was just the flit of light before my eyes, but this registered... just the glimpse.



The old gate is saggy and needs a good lift to shut, and it stops nothing really as there is no bit of fence beside it. Its more a symbol of the closing of day and need for enclosure... it only stops nosy drivers who are too lazy to get out of their cars and open it... it says"hey you...this is the end of the road." I had people jusy driving up into my place pretending they didn't know they'd left the public road... too many opportunists around.



Must seem strange to the little face I saw when I was up there...dragging a bit of metal across the road... for what... she might wonder.



But then if our faeries and such have indeed followed us from out ancestral homes in Ireland and other such...they already know not to try and figure out the Celtic mind anyway. We need no reasons for much of what we do. Maybe thats why we hang about each other...



Then again, maybe I move too slowly for her to even register my passing and its a non issue totally...

The Faeries’ Road.

Sun! Mellow on this time, and all the world is quiet.
The trees are still, time is still -
All the world is watching for the change.

A flash! One brilliant light,
And the world is blue with twilight.
The leafy corners deepen, opening for the night.
The people leave - with primitive fears of night fall
And the forces governing
Are making a tally of the day.

Who is walking on the faeries’ road?
Following me.
I welcome them with my arms outstretched -
As night deepens, the world of misty life begins,
As in time forever.

Quiet! No reason to talk,
We’re home in the still bush.
Hills of gold go slowly in peace,
Like old people ambling down the street.

Down in the town people stir.
Boredom brings them to clubs and halls.
No time to sit on the ground
And watch the sky’s silky worship.
No time to sense the harmony that comes
When the forces suddenly show themselves
So in quiet we can understand...
And I understanding...know for the flash of light
All that is just and right.
I know how to be blithe along the faerie’s road,
Whether gravel or dirt...and lined with grassOr marbled and lined with precious jewels.

In through the sliding door ...

Came the night of Christmas Faeries

the night of Christmas

Waiting for Christmas leftovers, a scrap of tinsel, a golden star, an old bit of curly ribbon...

Not too proud to sift in the recycling bin for small bits of wildly coloured Christmas paper and the odd bit of Christmas cake...

sweeping up the icing sugar, the peanuts and the old prawn shells; Hoping for a bit of spilled home made gravy, a few scattered peas or beans and a bit of chicken

Their Christmas day begins as we fall asleep, already satiated by food and drunk on the giving, the drinking and the glitz