Wizards and Elves

By Cara Bullinger

I have gathered strength in solitude,  
Like a spider tatting its web of soundless silver.  
There are no longer elves in these woods:  
The last wizard took them away  
With the whispered incantations of the trees.  

The stones speak no more of what  
They saw before I came to this grove,  
Because my curses and my cries echoedEchoed between them before dying  
In the sky. I was a still lake :  
No wind stirred my deepness.  

I waited .  

And now, the white Mountain Stars reveal nothing  
To me except the joy of their fragile shape,  
Fragile as snowflakes on a steamy window.  
I touch the blade of the flower, the bark of the tree, 
The moss of the stone, the cold of the waterAnd am happy for only this.  

The elves will come again--but only when I  
Beckon them, only when I compose the incantations  
Of leaves that shift light and shadow  
In contrapuntal melodies or lyrical nocturnes.  


Cara Bullinger