Gone Faery-ing at Ross Falls (23 June 2019)

I have gone Faery-ing at Ross Falls,

twindle-too-la-ley-hey-nune—

with magic in leathery fingers.

I have sought the Foxglove residents

at the doors of burned-out Oaks_

crossing the slag & shale covered floor.                                1

I have conducted ghostly searches

in the cauldron-like basin

below the Falls, where sluagh-sídhe roam.

I have collected Faery Bells there,

twindle-too-le-ley-hey-nune—

and met no callers for nine nights long!                                 2

Yet time came when I heard their rhyme;

twindle-too-le-ley-hey-nune—

reflected in a Moon turned orange_

as I came to a Monkshood-gilded door.

It was there they appeared and careened

as the Moon was rising—

openly seeking my company!                                      3

I felt the Pan within me and rose up

onto the Moonlit highway

where the Faery were flying freeform!

Nine were my visions, nine were my steeds—

as I took the celestial turnpike

across drear landscapes, Faery-Haunted!                           4

Though I’d gone, I knew, I had not left;

I had flown away in my sleep_

         twindle-too-le-ley-hey-nune—

and was still by the herb-gilded door!

So, when I awoke, the Moon had gone,

but I had Faery-Dust

in my nostrils and I could hear them!                                  5

And they said—

“This ever-strange stream flows like a dream

into which you have fallen

only half-conscious and ever-haunted.

Down over Ross Falls you have slalomed,

into the silken black pool at the bottom

with its ever-Faery glimmer and gleam!

Follow merrily and sing with us:

“twindle-too-le-ley-hey-nune”—

and come again to our gilded door!”                                   6

“Slán go fóill!”