Friday, 26 April 2013

She weaves her magic

She weaves her magic

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye
And up and down the people go,

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
By the island in the river

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerily

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
Through the silent nights.

(26th poem for NaPoWriMo)

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