It's a
Wild Time,
The faeries dance.
I see the blaze
of an orange poppy petal skirt—
The flutter of fingers on
a grass
r e e d
f l u t e.
I hear the sound
of tiny
toes
tap
p
i
n
g
the fresh
dewed
grass,
the whistle
of a faerie,
s
i
n
g
i
n
g
to the sun,
the trees,
and the brook that
bubbles by.
I see
a
j a u n t y
acorn cap,
smell buttercup perfume.
It's a
Wild Time,
The faeries dance.
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