The air is crisp with autumn promise,
fills the senses with the smoky scent
of a fired-up wood burning stove.
A woodland fairy dances past us
carrying colorful leaves of yellow and orange.
She twirls and twirls until she is quite dizzy
scattering puffs of dirt and dust into the air.
We hear her voice singing a sweet invitation
to run and caper beside her tiny frame.
Her magical laughter tickles our ears
as we learn to accept the unexpected.
The trees prepare themselves for bed
as we hunker down for the night
warm beneath our hand-crafted feather quilt.
The air is crisp and scintillating outside.
We see dots of light as the woodland fairy
dances past our window one more time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem