I followed behind the family as we meandered through the evening ramble.
"His name is Saddy!" she cried. "I found a faery in the trees too! We must be magical folks." she concluded with a sage nod to her father. How could we deny such obvious truth?
There's an awaking begun in our neighborhood. Is it that the Veil Folk slumber the winter months along with the groundhogs and voles? Are the Fair-Folk stirring or is it just our eyes are seeing what has always been?
Saddy? I am not so sure.
I caught the rich scent of expensive Turkish tobacco this morning on the rainy breeze. If ever a chap would be one to puff thoughtfully upon a Meerschaum stalk it's this handsome sprite. I think he has a more distinguished nomenclature. I'll bet he's elfin secret service. "Move along human there's nothing to see here."
But then again, he introduced himself to the 6 year old first.
Magic is a foot. So I am obligated to jot down these musings. Less so because spring drags the romantic nonsensical out of a poet and more as evidentiary record.
Just in case we wander too close to the holey stone.