Forgotten spells dripped

from maiden's hair;

magic trickled

between the toes

of furtive

mushrooms.

We ran under starlight,

our faces,

beacons

streaming through

mossy forests.

We believed

our freedoms,

lacy wings shivering

with flight,

the horde king imprisoned,

our ancestors dancing

'round fires.

Yet,

one day,

chickadees wept,

berries became silent.

a hushed, imbalanced

wood,

cast in malediction.

Selfish enrichment

bubbled in bogs.

We wrapped

our spirits

with sour

translucence,

weeping fury

bleeding tempests,

breaking the roots

of our own home.

We slink now

in shadow,

vigilant,

risking small

strikes,

pelting

rebellious petals

windward.

One day,

when spare hopes

have passed,

the moon

will light

our

dangerous

path

into

open

sky.