The Easter Hunt
Poem Fairy: Yet not all eggs are placed by hand, Some come from folk not often planned, For fairies pass at break of day And leave their marks, then slip away.
The Easter Hunt
At first light in the meadow wide,
Where primrose cups and violets hide,
The children run with bright delight
To seek the eggs in morning light.
Yet not all eggs are placed by hand,
Some come from folk not often planned,
For fairies pass at break of day
And leave their marks, then slip away.
A painted shell by bramble laid,
One glinting deep in orchard shade,
And one that was not there before
Appears beside a root or door.
Soft laughter flickers through the grass,
Too quick to catch as shadows pass,
And petals stir where none have seen,
accept small eyes, watchful and keen.
The children search with eager cheer,
Though something lingers very near,
A shimmer felt, a breath of spring,
hints of colorful hidden things.
And when at last the hunt is done,
And baskets brim with gathered fun,
They leave behind, though none will tell,
One tiny egg for fae as well.
By Heather Patton / Verdant Butterfly
Subscribe to Verdant Butterfly
By Heather Patton · Launched a year ago
A creative space with over 170 enchanting stories and poems. I write fantasy, folklore and genre bending prose that can step off the path into comedy, adventure or the unsettling at any moment.
Online threats are crimes — Report at tips.fbi.gov
Very cute.
Very nice, 🙏