Garden Fairies in Early Spring
Eve Gaal
Mortals rarely see
them.
(We’re too
important--
too mature.)
They
swing on tall grass,
hide in tangled roots,
complex like innuendo,
jokes that fly over our heads.
They swirl in the underbrush--
painting spring--
stylishly spraying--
dipping—
creating
a catwalk of colors.
Decorating webs with glitter
pushing around windblown petals
and giggling softly in afternoon
rain.
What’s more important than that?
Sit and listen.
Tear your eyes from your phone--
fold away the rustle--
pause--even the crunching of
food.
Stop competing with nature.
Wait for it.
The hum of traffic will dim
There!
 |
| Have you seen them? |
Dodging under a mushroom
fluttering in a breeze
perhaps holding in transparent
wings--
until we step away.
