Nonsense my dear we dont do Magic here

Its only a Midsummer evening

With the golden chime of twilight in the branches
The last Goodnight of the slanting sun.
And there are no voices either
Just the tiny whisper of birdseed dropping from beas
And the heady song of the honeysucle.
!our soul is sliding into the sunset
"rowsy with sweet imaginings
And you as if Ive doped your tea
#r put cannabis in the scones.
$ut what you sense is the witching hour of dus
When the people of The #ther %ingdom come out silently
To paddle in the rushes by the pond
And ticle the fish.
!ou only now that something is happening.
"ont as my dear& its no concern of ours&
We only live here ' it belongs to them.
(from THE CITY OF LITTLE LIGHTS Copyright E. J. Ward Midsummr !"#$%
Copyright E. J. Ward Midsummr !"#$