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