Winter Solstice. Worgleschnortzkopf lay snuggled warm and cosy his blankets up to his nose. His fire burned low giving his little home in the old oak an orange glow Looking out his window from under his blankets he watched stars twinkle Now and then one would shoot in a white streak across the starry domain He smiled to himself , a smile of contentment and happy repose. Cupboards were full of winter provision collected while summer sun shone Snow began to fall softly and slowly covering the woods with fine white dust Jacomo Frostus began to dance leaving crystals behind like stars on earth Worgle caught a glimpse of the jester of ice as he danced by his window Leaving it covered in patterns of ice like spiders web frozen forever in time. Woodland creatures huddled in dreys and nests hidden deep in branches Wrens crammed together in holes in trees keeping each other warm While winters cold began to bite and nip at feet and feathered wing And Robin with head under wing in the centre of bramble thicket. Sleeping soundly and safe protected from chill and harsh wind. At dawns first glimpse yellow and bright snow and icickles Decorating trees small and mighty oak with glittering magic On this winters morn beginning new adventures for all in the woods. Worgle slowly and deliberately rose from his bed yawning and stretching From his head to his toes,placing logs on the fire pleasing sparks flew up His kettle he filled with water to boil and mushrooms soon sizzled In his old well used frying pan and with tatties and fruits he will soon break fast Washing it down with tea made with nettles and herbs inner heating for him Dressed in cap woollen and green, boots of soft leather and coat brown and worn Stepped out his door and took in deep breathes of clean fresh air Filling his lungs with the chill air ,bracing and refreshing waking his soul. What a day to be here he thought to none but himself as always alone He went about his garden brushing off snow from his plants and stones He suddenly stopped as he heard twigs snap raised his head to look An old man appeared no taller than himself with back bent double From carrying his load of twigs and branches ready for the fire At his own hearth and home , wherever that was. He raised his old head and looked with watery eye towards Worgleschnortzkopf Smiled and tried slowly to wave and went about his business crooked and slow A pang of remorse swept through Worgles being and rushed to help The old crooked man with his pile of sticks , and carried them To the old mans home not far from Worgles home in the oak. Deep in the roots of an old birch bole he beckoned Worgle Down a dark hole dank and damp where worms will dwell Then to his surprise they came to a hall all golden and shiney With stars dripping and running down the walls song fae and old heard in the air played on harps and lutes craved from wood ancient and old polished with beeswax to give a shine like unto gold. Dancers there were all gailey dressed in dresses and suits Made from silks of butterfly all rainbow colours so bright Tables laden with fruits and ales, ciders and wines from Honeysuckle juice pale and thick and of golden hue. Hazlenuts,chestnuts and acorn stew,mushrooms in soup Thick and hearty, salads of nettle and dandelion stalks with parsley and garlic Nastursham petals and starflowers blue hue covered the tables And scent filled the air of lavender and apple blossom Worgleschnortzkopf stood with eyes wide in amazement Women of fae and fair of face approached him with a smile full of grace And danced with him long into the night while stars looked down When at last he woke he was wrapped up in bed Blankets pulled up under his nose head on pillow of duck down soft Did he dream of last nights feast and dance with a woman so fair As to inhabit his dreams long into the year? At the foot of his bed hung a bag not of his Looking into it a spied a glass globe which swirled and glowed from within In it he saw golden light with star light dripping and fae music playing Tables filled with all kinds of good fare a harp and lute plucking a tune A womans smile warm and loving smiled at him from within the glass With a wink and a scamper across a floor with flash of silver she was no more. Andrew McIntyre 6/11/2013 11.30pm.
Posted on: Wed, 06 Nov 2013 23:41:45 +0000
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