THE SYLVAN DANCE

Drifting away in silent slumber,
Swallowed up inside of my spirit,
I wander through sleep's gold dust veil
And step into celestial light.

My brow is wreathed in moonlight,
Stars dance in the sky above my head,
Pale flowers turn and bow to the breeze
While willows dip to take their hands.

Faery Man and Faery Maid
Awaken from their diurnal dreamings
To join one another and I to dance
Scattering the ground with enchantment.

The North Wind, he is the piper.
The East Wind, he sings them songs.
The West Wind beats upon his old thunder drum
While the South Wind hums softly along.

Mist filigreed their gowns be,
Their swirling silver cloaks of sylvan leaves,
Bluebell adorned be their slippered feet,
With moonflowers nestled in shining locks.

In total contentment I am one with their waltz,
My brow crowned with moonlight coronets,
This is my most beautiful dream, my lovely wish,
My Sylvan Dance.