the fey

the doe
startles off
to the sanctuary
of an old february

and the sorceress
unshuffles her card deck

with a soft ploink
the sun drops
into the river like a water droplet
without so much
as a sizzle

the village need never know
the shaman takes in
the sacred flower
even on thursdays

the sphinx has forgotten
the answer to its riddle
now it eats when hungry
instead of by some code

the reverberating moon
rewinds its purebeams
and sends them down
again and forever, in the fey

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