The Stolen Afternoon

At the beginning of the week, I had the great fortune to visit Doon Hill, with two fae-friends.  The day dawned bright and full of sunbeams and hope for a great day. The fae did not disappoint us.

Here, in my homage to W.B. Yeats' evocative poem, is what I hope, a true rendering of our experiences there - if only we could have stayed...

Where dwells the sacred pine tree

Near Aberfoyle’s auld Kirk

There rises up our Dun Sidhe,

Amid green shadows mirk

Of rowan, holly, ash.

There they walked upon the rath

Filled with hope that

They might soon behold our Seelie Court.

Come away, O mortal folk!

Here beneath the verdant oak

With your fellows, hand in hand

For we have an open portal, unto our summer land.

Where the spear-beam sunlight glistens

Along lofty wishes

We flitter as we listen

Bestowing our kisses

Upon those human brows upturn’d

In faces, smiling, glances

Here and there they seek,

To follow gauzy fleet wings

That are like to make their hearts sing

And right chirksome in its beat.

Come away, O mortal folk!

Here beneath the verdant oak

With your fellows, hand in hand

For we have an open portal, unto our summer land.

Where moss-clad stones lie gird around

By split-trunk ancient beth

With softest hushing sound

Breathe sweet nature’s breath

And with their humble offering

A commonwealth is wrought

For a span of their time

The world means nought

A balm to suffering

On Doon Hill sublime

Come away, O mortal folk!

Here beneath the verdant oak

With your fellows, hand in hand

For we have an open portal, unto our summer land.

Away with us they’re coming,

The cheerful Three

Through glades with fat bees humming

Lifted are their hearts, and free

With gladsome shout and joyous laugh

They step into our realm

Full here to dwell, their world flies past

And time does overwhelm.

And so remain these blessed folk!

Here beneath the verdant oak

With our fellows, hand in hand

For we had an open portal, into our summer land.