By M Teresa Clayton
A vision! I am sure the shadows are playing games with my sight.
The movement, black as pitch, elegantly revealed against the evening sky,
Clearer now, I can see her form in silhouette against the dark of night.
Under pointed hat, watch the witch, arms open and reaching upward... why?
What is she reaching for as she sings that old Celtic hymn, a sweet lullaby.
Her voice beautiful and lilting down the rolling hill and across the moor;
A siren's song, echoing throughout the glen and calling gently upon the air.
Magic. O the magic that is being conjured, I have no doubt - I am sure
As I stand listening and watching her magic draw creatures to her there.
I feel the spell wrapping 'round me. I fear her not, 'tis no hag, but a lady fair!
A beautiful stag, recognizable by his sizable rack, and beside him, a doe.
They approach without fear and stand on the hill awaiting her command,
or so it seemed, as several hares and other small creatures began to appear in the glow
of the moon. No fear could be sensed, she called out above; her voice carried 'cross the land.
A light soon appeared and spun into stars to mock the heavens within each open hand.
As unbelievable as this may sound, I watched the moon slowly descend the sky,
and once it was within her reach, she pulled it closer still. She held it close and kissed
the object, then waved one hand o'er it. Surely this was an illusion of the eye...
though, if sight did not my witness become, this glorious vision would have been missed.
The vision that became the incantation that became the spell that e'en I could not resist.
The witch, with the creatures standing quietly at her side as she claimed the moon.
The light of the orb revealed her face; a face I had long known and quickly recognized.
Then, quietly, reverently, she opened her arms once more and sang that haunting tune.
I would not have believed any of this if I had not witnessed it with mine own eyes.
I knew then, if I share this declaration with anyone, they would surely think them lies.
Standing there surrounded by a menagerie of creatures and illuminated in the glow,
the lady in black gently pushed the orb back up into the night sky to shine its light down.
She touched each creature, petting, stroking, caressing and then she just let them go
and turned t'ward me, a cold chill 'gainst my spine, the wind whipping at her long black gown,
raising her hand t'ward me, I felt her blessing upon my brow and wore it like a crown.
The moon now secure in the night sky, now seemed to be preparing for its quest.
I began to feel the weight of my body, now heavy with a weariness 'neath the moon's beam,
again she waved her hand as if she were placing a spell that was calling me to rest.
Is anything we experience ever really remembered as precisely as it might seem?
I 'woke the next morn perplexed, had I witnessed this enchantment, or was this a lunatics dream?