The scent of magnolia and jasmine
Perfumes the sultry night air.
Twilight turns to darker shades
As I sit on the back porch stair.
The street lights turn on one by one,
Shadows deepening around their light.
I plant my feet in dew-wet grass,
Stirring fireflies into flight.
I listen with rapt attention
To the melody of crickets and frogs,
That blend with distant sounds
Of shifting leaves and barking dogs.
I gaze at a crescent moon
Rising above the willow tree
That has graced the little garden
For many a century.
Its gently swaying branches
Try to no avail
To hide the flitting faey
Behind its leafy veil.
They dance among the roses
And splash in the old bird bath,
Inviting me to stroll
Down my garden path.
The cobblestones feel warm
Beneath my still-wet feet.
Faey dart across my path,
Beating a fast retreat.
They pick the precious herbs
From my garden, tender green.
Green magick they wish to tap,
Herbs' power they seek to glean.
Down the path we travel
Into a hidden glen.
I gaze about in wonder,
Tis a place I've never been.
Faey sprinkle about the herbs
Within their magickal ring,
Their voices raised in song
To praise the great Oak King.
Tis their Solstice celebration
To honor the eternal fight.
Holly King battling Oak,
Oak King waning before his might.
I join the sacred dance,
Rising up into the dark,
Savoring the enchanted moment
As the moon completes her arc.
Wearied from my flight
I drift down to touch the ground.
Dawn is fast approaching.
Faey retreat into their mound.
Tis time to head for home.
I say my last farewell
And with melancholy steps
I break the enchanted spell.
Alone I stand in my garden
Still caught up in the weave
Of the beauty and the magick
Of a Midsummer's Eve.

...Moone

Copyright © Dwareniel Moone