The Dancers Small

By Gail Lawson White

‘Tis a place in time wherein
Faerie hills abound,
Where from winter s darkest corners
Springs forth newness all around.

Once Springtide’s charm
‘Tis duly cast,
She brings with the faerie hills
And there appear
In transparent form
Dancers small upon
The grassy knoll.

And these dancers small,
Their own music
With them bring,
A band of two
Or perhaps three,
One in the shadows
With a drummer s beat.

So light of foot
The dancers small
That each step
Touches not the earth,
But just the brush of air
Disturbs the soil beneath
By the breeze there attached.

We know not
From whence they come
Nor where their future takes,
For no evidence of their passing
Do they leave behind,
But in that misty realm
Beyond imagination s craft.

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