After the Rain

Now, who believes this story is true?

Image result for rain on flowers

After the Rain

I found a sprite cowering
beneath the mushrooms
that sprout
between the maple’s roots
that coil through the earth
as snakes.

Her wings,
heavy with rain,
unable to buzz,
to speed her toward the sun,
drooped as the rose petals drooped
above the orange mums.
I thought to snatch her,
make her home a glass jar
lined with grass blades
and the soft scents of wildflowers,
but to what end?

Rather, I’ll let the afternoon
revive her flight
and give her back to fairy tales,
content that I let breathe
this once upon a time,
as fairy tales let breathe
my wanderings.

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