In the mystical moment when day forms from night, the first hour of twilight. I hear sneaky sounds. They're muted, little crackles. Very, very soft. Very, very slight. A bit bratty too. Adorable, yet spoiled. Tickles in your ears. As they laugh outright. There's no care for those sleeping. No care for polite way of doing things. Or rules, which are appropriate and right. These snickers take their claim to exist any way. Any time. Any place -- as loud as they like.
'Let's see if we can catch what they're doing.' Thought through my mind running. As those scatchy sounds lead me to a scented scene. Damp & woody.
I look up into such a magical sight. I find myself standing and awing under the fairy lights.
Mist falls on a banquet. What a mess! My goodness! Those naughty fairies left -- must have heard me coming.
Muddy footprints. Dainty light steps. Touching all over EVERYTHING.
Goblets tumbled down. Some even now. Back & forth rolling with berry red wine. Spilling and staining. The linen fine on a table lengthy wide. There are candles with wicks still lit and down the wax drips. Showing the party was not quite over just yet.
Raspy noises again capture my attention in the distance. Those stinkin' fairies are laughing at me. It's okay. Yes.
I'll catch them next time. But for now, all these long coats left behind. Are mine. I'm taking them from the chairs, whose backs are high, scattered about here & there under the fairy lights.
--Christine Kincer 2010
