* * *
Whose midnight revels, by a forest side
Or fountain, some belated peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon
Book 1, line 742
As softly fades the light of day I hear a familiar rustle in the woods. With myriad duties to attend before night’s end, I wrestle with the urge to follow the sound into the gentle surrounds. Another sound draws near my ear and I flee the deck and follow in pied-piper fashion.
Down the path and around the bend,
I find further invite to evening’s event.
Make me a child again, just for to-night!”*
I plunge through the thicket under watchful eyes of an on-looking moon, as dulcet trills of evensong bid me enter the Sylvan Ball.
Full of ruffles and rainbow’d hues they sway and glide and wink from behind foliage polished and bright.
Like dancing princesses in tales by brothers Grimm, these sylvan dwellers dance to tunes embedded deep in the heart of all children. I count it all joy to have stepped back from the hearth, ducked under the fig, and crept ‘round the bend to fall headlong into this childish delight. I danced ‘til my slippers wept rents, and at the final resting tone I stole back through the verdant curtain and plunged into the sudsy waters of kitchen care . . . yet, humming a tune of Sylvan revelry and dreaming of my next dancing chance.
* * * * *
*from “Rock Me to Sleep”
By Elizabeth Akers Allen
**All photos taken in my garden.