there's a fairy with a harp
a white moon spirit
in my garden

at twilight when
purple iris tides flood
the western horizon
and the evening star
hovers brightly over
her vixen head
she tiptoes past the
Lakshmi lotus fountain
tossing golden coins at our feet
and if in the mood
she swings in the jhoola with me

when the atmosphere thins
and we see through the walls
our imaginations have built
if you listen with a
fine-tuned ear you can
surely hear her
Celtic swan~song rippling...
carrying us across
gossamer wavelengths
to distant luminous shores