At dusk long shadows obscure the woodland floor.
An old oak tree’s roots protrude from the earth,
ivy has climbed the trunk and entwined its branches.
A leafy pathway winds its way through the trees
flanked by bracken, brambles, ferns and bluebells.
This is the domain of the fey and the veil is lifting.
An owl hoots, there’s a rustle in the undergrowth
and a gentle breeze whispers through the leaves.
Enchanting music drifts through the air
and coloured lanterns bob between the trees.
The beautiful elven in coloured silk and velvet grace the path,
some on horseback, others walking.
Pointed ears protrude from thick hair and slanted eyes twinkle.
The horses are highly strung, their manes plaited with tiny bells,
their long tails flow out behind them as they tinkle along on tiptoe.
The procession emanates an auric light and a sense of love and peacefulness.
As dusk drifts into moonlight the King and Queen ride by.
Moonbeams catch the crystals in their crowns
and the sparkling threads of their sumptuous garments.
The last of the faerie folk file by, their cloaks trailing along the woodland pathway.
The Rade disappears into the night along with the music not quite remembered.