On whom does Puck his juice bestow?
Whose sprinkling ardor does ignite
Of late it’s not on me, I know.

Saved perhaps for youthful glow
Where passion and desire alight
On whom does Puck his juice bestow?

May land above and not below
Dispersed in acrobatic flight
Of late it’s not on me, I know.

The maiden doused but not her beau
Transformed to vapor in the night
Where Puck did once his juice bestow.

Now tossed with mischief, then to blow
Rare liquid falling not quite right
Of late it’s not on me, I know.

‘Midst chattering gulls in silver flow
He hovers, waves, and winks delight
On whom does Puck his juice bestow?
Perhaps today on me, I know.

Dorothea Barth 2010© Vallejo CA USA

This entry was posted on Saturday, January 30th, 2010 at 11:03 am and is filed under Dorothea Barth, Elf Poems, Pixie Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.