tiny people of celtic legends
curl themselves into green leaves,
leaning toward the rays of the sun,
streaming through beveled glass panes
and distant dreams of summer days
Green Leaves
tiny people of celtic legends
curl themselves into green leaves,
leaning toward the rays of the sun,
streaming through beveled glass panes
and distant dreams of summer days
spanishwoods 
such lovely thoughts 🙂
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Thank you Jodi. 🙂
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Beautiful. That is the word.
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Thank you so very much.
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Indeed they do: and never tread on those burned brown leaves when they hit the ground for fear of crushing a sleeping elf.
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Yes, absolutely true. 🙂
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That’s what we used to say in Wales, when I was a child: the crackle of the fallen leaves must be avoided so as not to injure the elves. Such beliefs … such memories … thank you for bringing them back.
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Thank you for sharing that memory Roger.
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Great poem and photo! I’m also looking forward those summer days. 🙂
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Thank you. 🙂
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