Samhain

Those Irish never cease to amaze me with their rich folklore and legends. Samhain (possible pronunciation: sow en) was Ireland's Halloween where the fairy mounds open up and the people perform many strange and superstitious traditions like putting a perfect ivy leaf in a cup. If the leaf hadn't spotted or dried up overnight, the person could expect twelve months of good health until next Samhain.... But anyway, I tried to write a Samhain poem from a fairy's point of view. Tell me how you like it!

We sprint over the tops of long meadow grasses.
We leave a trail of dew drops and summer behind.
The moon paints the land with orange light
and pipe music fills the air--
though its not ours.
Not yet.
Ivy leaves sit in cups
and apple peels litter the ground-- foolishness.
We stalk through the barns, but
there's nothing there for us.
No, nothing there for us.
It is time, time for us to
steal the poor frightened humans away-
And we do.

Magic swirling, the glade is ours.
Banshees' wails add to the trill of our
faerie pipes and flutes
and the tambourines and timpany drums ring out into
the night.
The taste of honey on our lips,
feet pounding the earth,
a honeysuckle and lavendar fragrance
pollutes the air.
Shouts of joy and icy laughter,
we are happy,
these human souls are ours now, trapped forever
in the world of the Sidhe,
Samhain has gone well
and we melt into the shadows until
the next time Lord Samhain's song of the dead
fills the air
and the End of Summer courses through our veins.
Until next Samhain.