In midland hills where cedars thrive,
A rare and wistful sight:
Her iridescence could not hide
A fairy shorn of flight.

She sat beneath the morning sky,
Devoid of healing dew,
Though fawns had lately frolicked there,
Her spirit shimmered blue.

Bluer than the bonnets fair
That in springtime bloom,
Bluer than the berries round,
Unfairy-like her gloom.

For what could harm a fairy,
Whose essence is the light,
Whose joy reigns unencumbered
Through all the seasons bright?

Might I, mere mortal, intervene
To soothe her wing so torn?
My flute inspired by fairy song,
The notes aloft are born.

Bluer than the summer sky
Unmarred by threat’ning storm,
Bluer than the bluebird’s call,
Notes match her fragile form

Then slyly did I change my song
To that which might enhance
A memory of brighter days,
A fairy circle dance.

Soon did she lift a lum’nous wing
As fairy tune danced on,
A gentle breeze enveloped her,
She shimmered, then was gone.

Bluer than the bonnets fair
That in the springtime bloom,
Bluer than the berries round,
Away the fairy’s gloom.

Dorothea Barth©2009 Vallejo CA USA

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