Though of unknown origin, whim is obviously a fairy word.
One dark and rainy afternoon, we decided
on a whim
to go for a walk around the island.
We hadn't been back since the Patriot's Day storm
had destroyed much of it five years before.
Here is what we found...
Following the yellow
brick road
to the path around the island,
I looked into what the storm had left of the forest.
At first, it looked like a Boy Scout bivouac.
But wait... what does that little sign over there say?
Oh.
Then I began to notice little piles of
this and that here and there;
building materials.
Looking through literally acres of trees,
I could see signs of construction everywhere.
And I mean
everywhere.
No matter how nondescript, closer inspection revealed
that under almost every rock and stick and foot,
* WATCH OUT! *
some tiny person dwelled.
Beneath a roof carefully tiled with oak leaves,
pine branch rafters spanned
a dining table made of shale.
A peek under a curl of birch bark
across a patio made of mussel shells
exposed sophisticated architecture.
Like wee hippies,
some preferred to live
au natural,
in a little treehouse.
This next one cracked me up.
Apparently, some fairies live in trailers,
watch TV,
and probably
microwave their TV dinners.
It always paid to scooch down to peer inside.
There were thousands of abodes
scattered throughout the forest.
Some were big
Some were tiny
Some had front doors
and back doors
Though privacy is to be respected,
I couldn't resist looking through the windows.
Some were charming.
Others were obviously charmed.
Offerings had been left at several.
I'll spare you the hundreds more pictures.
If these few aren't enough magic,
here's one more special sight.
We suddenly saw a tree
so unusual and powerful,
it had rightly been adorned
from top to bottom.
It's a whole story unto itself.
A story for another day.
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