60 dead faeries
lay under seas:
near dry prairies,
'neath fallen trees.
one lively faery
from distant skies
flew - though 'twas scary -
rounds for their lives.
biting each wing,
sprinkling dews,
tearing strings
of fading hues.
though 'twas in vain:
none came alive,
snowfalls and rains
fought for their lives -
cold storms were spent,
ground wells ran dry,
down trees were bent,
fires were high...
60 dead faeries
now swing with winds.
one lively faery
now has no wings:
she rides with bees,
she moves through seas -
dwellings to find
must she for her kind!
(c)kRu, 21.12.04-18.06.05
https://roshkakru-poems.livejournal.com/32720.html