Circle of The Fairytree

The Fairy Tree is a Celtic symbol, deity and superstition. I have seen Fairy Trees in many places around Ireland, famously on the Hill of Tara in Co Meath but in other locations. On these trees people hang pieces of material or string or even lengths of their own hair, they offer these gifts in return for favours from the fairies or the druids or from what ever Deity they worship. The Irish are not foolish or superstitious and most of us don’t believe in Fairies but we do believe in tradition and this homage to the little people is an old and sacred tradition. The tree is always a solitary Whitethorn or Hawthorn often referred to as the May bush. The Hawthorn blooms in Early summer and the scent of the white blooms is intoxicating, the flowers are followed by the bright red berries that feed our bird life through out the colder months. An important little tree that deserves our praise.

Circle of the Fairy Tree

Year turns and she beckons me

My wild love the fairy tree

Naked against the morning chill

And yet we see her beauty still

Gnarled and twisted limbs reach out

And tortured body twined about.

But as the days grow long and bright

Chase darkness to receeding night

Her gown of green she will wear

And then in Spring will appear

The magic of the fairy tree

Whose mystic beauty calls to me.

 

 

As leaves emerge and tree takes form

She tease me with her fairy charm

Flower buds open in the evening light

And heavenly scent fills the night

Her perfume drifts on evening air

And banishes each invasive care.

Intoxicated by wild temptress charms

I slip into her waiting arms

And waltz on honey scented breeze

Until she brings me to my knees.

And as each petal tumbles down

Once more she dons her verdant gown.

 

Now as summer drifts away

Night comes again to shorten day

Gay garden beauties fade away

While meadow turns to standing hay

Its then my love in berry seen

Then we call her fairy Queen

And in abundance she will feed

The flying things who spread her seed

And in hard winter crimsom flush

Welcome as a maidens blush

Will keep the robin and the finch

In frost and snow pinch by pinch

Until we see the bobbing wren

And know the year has turned again

 

© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com 2015

 

 

 

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