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MUSED Literary Magazine.

Chimes, Fairies and the Alaska Sun

Ken Allan Dronsfield

Wind chimes sing of stolen breezes.
The dew fairies ride on falling leaves
some giggling as they glide down.
Shore grasses bend in the harsh gusts.
Alders shimmer in the golden sunrise as
ducks on the pond rise to stretch wings.
Russet fields glimmer after a light frost and
chipmunks squeal while running on stones by
empty picnic tables now lonely in the park.
Deer search for acorns and beechnuts and
rising high behind us, the huge green hills,
pellucid in expanse and the morning sun.
The grass a hue of green that would make
a leprechaun captivated with lustful envy.
Our salmon catch is good and the hold full.
The ocean rises and falls with the swell and
mounds of seaweed drift towards the shore.
We finish our tea, hoist the main sails, and
hope we can catch a following wind to Sitka.
A cup of rum and we sing a shanty home.