The Fairy Dance

Liana Mir reads, writes, and wrangles the muses from her mundane home in the Colorado Rockies and, occasionally, from the other side of the Barrier.

No hint of storm disturbs / The fairies at their dance

On Autumn Seventeenth
The fairies have their dance
They make a deal with Fate
Leaving naught to chance

They ride the wind in waves
To capture golden leaves
To dive and fish for red
They hover on the breeze

The tailor of the fae
Takes sunlight for his thread
He weaves their autumn hues
Into their dress instead

Their pretty yellow gown
Their crimson cloak and sash
Their little nut shell shoes
And to the dance they dash!

They caper in the green
The meadow’s bright with fae
They cover every tree
And dance the livelong day

That ancient mother, Fate
Reminds us she is wise
She sends her daughter young
To guard the sunny skies

No hint of storm disturbs
The fairies at their dance
No faintest cloud appears
Naught is left to chance

Fate sends her daughter old
To guard the forest trees
No human foot will pass
No human eyes will see

And duties all fulfilled
That mother Fate presides
To watch the whirling dance
Until gaiety subsides

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