In Spring groves they are to be found

Ponder the perfection that resides within reflection.
Wander is wonder. In Spring groves they are to be found.
The Good Folk, by twilight, as by the oak they dance.
Dressed for procession. They dance, oh joy, to such merry
A tune it doth make my heart wither in weeping.

As dreaming, as asleep
Within the Oak, dryads ancient joke
As outside their life is to be ended
Upon the turning of a leaf.
Within the hedgerow await the
Children Impish of the forest.
Awaiting to test those who seek to rest.

poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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