The gray lady glided in a gown of tempered silver, bobbing like a distant traveler’s lantern in the winter hush of a November dusk. Warriors dropped their swords and shed their ineffective amulets to lay down in the battlefield. They found the cold snow as welcoming as soft pillows and slept. From dreams into death they passed, unknowingly and pleased. The great wizards with their spying glasses trembled from high on the ramparts and the king guarded by his castle watched as she strode unhurriedly, cowing his great army as the drawbridge unwound itself and lowered.
Where the sunflowers hang heavy with seed
and the primroses entice yellow honeybees
there I’ll wait with a basket of leaves
to petal your way into green-lit eaves.
In the copse I’ll grasp sun for your veil
sing and dance, weaving fox rain and spell
shudder and pray, “God speed your way”
on this one in a thousand summer day.
So hurry forth from hearth and home.
Go far into the black forest and roam.
Leave your yarn and crumbs; no tie back
and with my pledge you’ll nothing lack.
Where the sunflowers sag heavy with scent
there our eternal days will be united and spent.
So pick up your feet and fly without delay
to my kingdom of the magical, mystical fey.
If a magician charms a child, he is good
But if he insists in magic for an adult
Then he branded a fool and a liar
Wonder, hope, and belief —
That is the happiness we deny ourselves
On tin stars the spotlight shines
To blind the eyes
And give free reign to imagination
That smile might hold a thousand words
That dream made of cardboard
Takes on shadow and depth
And for a moment, breathes dragon’s fire