Faerie's Tale

image borrowed from fairyland

Faerie’s Tale

“When the first baby laughed for the first time,

his laugh broke into a million pieces, and they all

went skipping about--that was the beginning of fairies.

---J.M. Barrie

Old Sean squatted on the edge of the meadow,

below the ancient mill, watching its great wheel

churn the spring water into bubbling froth,

never a stranger to the fluidous spirits,

his fantastical remembrances were vivid,

from wee lad to arthritic crone,

he had always been privy to the enchanted

world of Fairyland, the Elementals,

the divers creatures of legend;

elves, brownies, siths, nymphs, pixies, 

tree spirits, garden gnomes, goblins,

banshees, trolls, & sidhe--faeries all,

guardians of the Otherworld.

He was told as a boy of ten

by a glowing feminine spirit

with a translucent shape,

more condensed air than matter,

radiant and wisp-like,

that his metaphysical awareness was keen,

that his eugenic link to the wee folk

was traceable, telling him her kind

could not lie, were capable of prophesy,

were incapable of malice,

but that he needed to be aware that some

of their diminutive ilk were pranksters,

demoted cherubs, shape-shifters, 

& changelings.

As twilight approached he did inventory

of his many charms of protection,

patted the four-leaf clover in his breast pocket,

sat very near running water, clutched

his pigskin pouch of rowan bark, carried

several crusts of dried bread,

wore his vest and jacket inside-out,

had a broken knife blade made

from the finest flat cold iron, guaranteeing 

his safety as these things were shunned

like poison by the less chivalrous of spirits.

As darkness settled in gently, he smiled sadly,

recalling that his lifelong insights & interaction

with these creatures had been exquisite, 

exhilarating beyond measure,

but it had been his bane as well, forever branded,

defined by others as a batty eccentric,

All coming full circle that night, for 

at the witching hour he would sing

his death song, would sip deeply

of several fairy potions, then 

would morph into insect proportions, 

would sprout colorful wings,

would be carried like a fairy king

on a divan of rose petals,

for his initiation was completed

and his ethereal existence,

his actual life awaited him,

first into the delicious darkness,

soon to be reborn

into the light.

Glenn Buttkus

December 2012

Posted over on dVerse Poets OLN

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