Across the fen and moors,
and far from the crashing shores;
The Witching Hour approacheth,
deep in the woodland forest.
And, as all of the land has numbly nodded,
Tall trees stand watch over a little stone cottage,
and, greet the grey smoke rising
from a brick and mortar chimney.
Inside, from the ceiling's wooden rafters,
Herbs hang from gnarled hooks and antlers.
On the hearth is a bubbling cauldron,
that is black and tarnished with soot.
Suspended above a roaring flame,
is a gurgling, boiling toadstool soup;
to which the wise old woman,
adds mermaid tears,
lizard teeth, and Eye of Newt.
The cat of black is silent and sleek,
and moves on padded feet,
'round her ankles,
though it never tangles,
as she works her sorcery.
While the cat is content and purring;
The creatures out of doors are roused and stirring.
She reaches for a key from an ancient cupboard drawer,
Then opening the creaking, arched wooden door,
She exclaims words of alerting;
"Arise!"
"Arise!"
Into the night, she cries,
to all the living beings who are now emerging.
The elves appear from under mushroom caps,
Fairies leave their beds from dragon-snaps;
And, a cluster of stars begin their tune.
They nudge and whisper to the sleepy moon,
to ignite its glow upon their dances.
The stars advise the moon,
" 'Tis time to climb,
and levitate to the farthest reaches!
Come! Convene with the forest creatures!"
Silently, a great white stag advances,
stepping over mossy rocks and fallen branches.
From scaled eggs, baby dragons are hatched,
Splaying wings and breathing fire;
And, as the sirens begin their midnight choir,
a raven appears, landing on the roof of thatch.
They spy upon the wisp-o-willow,
pondering its reflection in a watery pillow,
and waking from its nap.
The wolf watches the raven,
parlay with the owl;
so the wolf follows the siren's song,
and begins to howl.
Fairy wings illuminate the air,
as they rise, like fireflies,
flying far into the sky,
and shaking glitter from their hair.
They dance over ivy, myrtle and weeds;
like summer winds that blow dandelion seeds,
sprinkling light across the blackest night.
And as the clock strikes twelve,
so appears the elves,
who were busy gathering herbs and flowers;
to bring to the wise old wench,
who is now aware of the hour.
She takes their goods to add to the soup;
and the other creatures decorate the Great forest table.
The feast has begun, as the goblins strike their drums,
and mischievous imps light an array of candles.
With a sudden commotion, arrived the Fairy Queen;
(Who stood much taller than others of her breed)
on the back of a horned beast with cloven feet.
They all gather 'round, to revel the night,
and partake in the heady staple.
Though, no human has witnessed,
or has ever seen,
celebrations or events such as these;
In my imagination,
this is a fabrication,
of the All Hallow's Eve.
© Denise Goodwin, All Rights Reserved
