Mystical dance

Evening falls
Light of day slips quietly away
Soundless this place
Finds me waiting
Watching.
Fog stretches across
Water dark with falls decay
Cool air permeates
The cloak that hides
The poet with the searching eyes.
Mist swirls faster
Forms taking shape
Twisting
Turing
Changing place.
The fairies dance
In the grand ball of air
Spinning in glee
Unaware of me.
Over and through
They ride the cloud
Small chirping
And the quietest wind
The only thing to break the silence
Of the this cosmic dance.
Higher they rise
Caught in the breeze
Like smoke from a fire
Slowly moving
Hanging
Then gone.
I sigh and rise
Watching the moment disappear
Before me,
A bit sad as I longed to join
The mystical dance
To live that magical moment of floating
Into thin air
To spin and move free
No ground keeping me still,
Just a whisper of time
Seen by only one.
They shall return again,
This is the time of year
I often find them dancing there,
Above the water dormant
Cold and unforgiving,
In the heat they will rise
They will dance
The whimsy of joy caught once more
And again I will be waiting
To give the standing ovation.

Artwork by : Johan August Malmström, Dancing Fairies (Älvalek). 1866

Life’s gifts

Words that grow
From thought and dream
Drifting through the air
Reaching souls in far off corners
Of this small world.
Life’s gifts
Pretty wrapped happiness
Like a precious bundle of flowers
Tied with ribbons
Decorating a table
For a party of friends.
We talk of life
Sipping tea and tasting the bounty
Of Mother Earths fruits,
The creaminess of cheese with bread and jam,
We laugh and cry
Spilling the emotion of our ups and downs,
We come together through these our words
We give simple gifts
Sent from the heart
To know we are not alone in our thoughts,
In our hopes and fears.
We know our belief in dreams
Are tangible things
And that with each morning the sun
Will surely rise
Even if hidden behind the darkest clouds.
The gift of a friend
Of love,
Of family
Of each moment we are blessed
To be here,
Sharing,
Living,
Loving
Life’s gifts opened and strewn about,
The presents of presence of the soul
that is endless,
That come to each of us
In every breath we take,
In every word we share.