Tag Archives: poem

Fairy parachute

(Note: Fairy parachute is a fungus a/k/a Marasmiellus candidus. Photo by friend and accomplished photographer Brian McDaniel.)

I found a fairy parachute hiding in the woods.

I looked around and found no fairy, though hoping that I would.

I looked about and under the trees, bushes, and even vines.

By the time I was done, it was dark. It was a quarter past nine.

I turned and started heading for home.

Only then did I soon realize how far I had roamed.

Any way I turned and walked, I remained alone.

The moon was rising high. It peeked through the trees.

A chill came into the night and a weakness into my knees.

I did not want to be alone in this light empty place.

If I had a companion, he’d see the horror on my face.

I did not know what to do as an old barn owl cried out.

Then a bat fluttered overhead and I gave a piercing shout.

I was petrified when someone said, “Come now. Turn about.”

Had I heard a voice? The idea was absurd.

I felt myself collapsing without saying a word.

“Stand tall, my good man,” the voice commanded.

“It is a pickle we are in and find ourselves so landed.”

The voice was small but mighty as if it came from far away.

But when I slowly turned and looked, I saw the old fairy.

He waved me to his little fire and I listened to his music play.

He sang a song and told a joke, well, probably a few.

Then he shared a bit of his grog. It tasted like morning dew.

I yawned and stretched and calamitied into a boneless heap.

Surprisingly, I quickly fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I first heard a bird chirping. Then felt a butterfly on my nose.

I slowly roused to find myself naked – absolutely no clothes.

To this day I made a mistake, one I unfortunately chose.

I never saw that fairy again, nor his parachute,

But if I ever do, I will be one big brute.

It is hard to leave a forest dress in your birthday suit.

What I don’t understand is why he even did it.

I doubt he could ever wear my shirt or even fit in it.

And my pants would only be good for a parachute.

There was no money in the pockets. I was broke to boot.

So, now you’ve heard my tale of woe and how I wound up here.

Brother can you spare me a shirt and maybe a pint of beer?