December

The faeries dance like snowflakes in December,
gently gliding through the winter frost -
finally not having to remember
all the lovely treasures they have lost.

August made a promise to the pixies,
that love would shine like crystals in the sky -
or sunlight peaking through the shady oak trees
inviting magic creatures to come by.

Now the birds on snowy fences sing
of brighter flowers ‘long some clearer paths -
and meadows flush with butterflies in spring
that bask upon the dewdrop faerie baths.

The white trees stand and wait so very still,
for their apples to grow red and true -
while snow mounds hide the rainbows on the hill,
teardrops paint it all in shades of blue.