The moon casts its silver gaze over the gentle river below.
As fairies dance in its dazzling glow.
Then she rises from the water, droplets of water glistening on her skin, the river fae.
She steps from her watery home and starts a soft song of ancient lore and legend, that in the dark is doomed to stay.
Below the crescent moon; the moonbeam fairies dance in rhythm to the tale being told.
The river queen, for that is what she is, gently forms the rhythm with words of a language old.
Her voice travels to the elves, the air caressing their skin.
One with nature. One with sound, the dance of the night begins.
They dance over the water and over the hills, then down into the peaceful village to scatter peaceful dreams.
Breezes whisper through the air on individual streams.
They enter every window to sprinkle dreams in sleeping eyes.
Then out they fly to dance, again, in the star-filled skies.
They leave the sleeping village and make their way back home, dancing up the forest path; lit by the light of the moon.
They are quick but movement is smooth for the sun will rise soon.
The elves play their pipes an whistles, with no worries of being seen.
And thus the dance of the night proceeds.
They reach the end of their journey as happy as can be.
Then for cover of the trees the playful elves do flee.
The fairies go back from whence they came, as the sun peaks over the hills.
And the song of birds rings out to ward the morning chill.
Not that it does not fight.
So ends the enchanting dance of the night.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Short Stories and Poetry
General FictionA collection of all my short stories, essays, poetry and other things that are too short to have their own story.
