in the hollow by the creek
after the
sun dips behind the ridge
night restores shadow to the wood
as the gods dust the sky with a pinch of stars
the balsams
gently sway to October's sonata
and the glow of tiny lanterns warms the water's edge
some say the source of light is faery fires:
the
substantiation of ageless legend
and testimony to the personification of nature
investigation might provide a more rational account
in this age
of science and terminal doubt
but I find myself unwilling to take those steps
instead, I keep my distance and watch from afar,
eventually
drifting off under the spell of their song
as they revel down in the hollow by the creek