Tossing up the green men

Tumbling through the air,

they circle around my head.

Leaving wisps of thoughts that were never there before.

Little kids in piles,

of brilliantly coloured leaves.

Spin around in circles,

tossing up the green men.

The smell of incense,

strong in the air.

I smile as I breathe

in the ocean breeze against my face.

Kicking dead leaves into the water

with the toe of my boot,

tossing up the green men.

walking down the cobbled street,

looking in the bushes and the

goblins peering at me.

Pixies rush through the trees,

pushing aside the branches,

tossing up the green men.

The old church bells,

loud and ringing so high up

tolling eight.

Small men in caps pulling on ropes and sweeping dirt out of the tower,

tossing up the green men.

The moon begins to rise and the humans go to sleep.

The full moon is up,

the bleeding sun is down

and the faerie come out

to play.

In a room not to far.

Little stick and bramble men peer intently

at the sleeping face of a small dark girl.

They pick her up and bring her to an orchard,

with brightly coloured leaves

replacing her with one of their own.

Tossing up the humans!