Twas the
night before Yuletide
By Tatum
Lynn Soullier on Thursday, December 22, 2011 at 10:58am
Twas the
night before Yuletide and all through the glen
Not a
creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.
A mantle of
snow shone brightly that night
As it lay on
the ground, reflecting moonlight.
The faeries
were nestled all snug in their trees,
Unmindful of
flurries and a chilly north breeze.
The elves
and the gnomes were down in their burrows,
Sleeping
like babes in their soft earthen furrows.
When low!
the earth moved with a thunderous quake,
Causing
chairs to fall over and dishes to break.
The Little
Folk scrambled to get on their feet
Then raced
to the river where they usually meet.
“What
happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed,
As they
shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.
“What caused
the earth's shudder? What caused her to shiver?”
They all
spoke at once as they stood by the river.
Then what to
their wondering eyes should appear
But a
shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.
It blinked
and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,
Then it flew
straight up and was lost in the sky.
Before they
could murmur, before they could bustle,
There
emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,
A stately
old crone with her hand on a cane,
Resplendent
in green with a flowing white mane.
As she
passed by them the old crone's perfume,
Smelling of
meadows and flowers abloom,
Made each of
the fey folk think of the spring
When the
earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.
“My name is
Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed
in a voice
that at once was both wild and tamed,
“I've come
to remind you, for you seem to forget,
that Yule is
the time of re-birth, and yet…”
“I see no
hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,
The air
isn't filled with fragrant smells
Of baking
and roasting, and simmering stews,
Of cider
that's mulled or other hot brews.”
“There
aren't any children at play in the snow,
Or houses
lit up by candles’ glow.
Have you
forgotten, my children, the fun
Of
celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”
She looked
at the fey folk, her eyes going round,
As they
shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.
Then she
smiled the smile that brings light to the day,
“Come, my
children,” she said, “Let's play.”
They
gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,
Threw off
the drab and drew on the jolly.
They lit a
big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.
They brought
out the bells and clapped when they rang.
They strung
lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,
In colors of
cranberry, bayberry, cherry.
They built
giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,
Then
surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.
Then just
before dawn, at the end of their fest,
Before they
went homeward to seek out their rest,
The fey folk
they gathered ‘round their favorite oak tree
And welcomed
the sun ‘neath the tree's finery.
They were
just reaching home when suddenly it came,
The gold
light returned like an arrow-shot flame.
It lit on
the tree top where they could see from afar
The
golden-like sphere turned into a star.
The old
crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,
"Happy
Yuletide, my children," she whispered. "Good night."
C.C.
Williford - registered 2004 copyright -
briarwoodstudio.com