My Daddy Says.

My window looks into my garden, and down by the big holly tree
is a very large patch of springy green moss where the Buddleia bush used to be.
No ordinary flowers will grow there, it’s reserved, or so Daddy says
for the beautiful toadstools with brilliant red hoods,
that grow close together like fairyland woods,
so the sprites and the brownies can all dance together
on that springy green moss, whatever the weather.

They don’t stay there long, just a couple days,
then they’re gone ‘til next year, but I know they’ll always
come back, to the springy green moss at this time of year
when the air is still warm and the moon bright and clear.
‘cos then the Fairy King’s Herald sends out the call
to the elves and the pixies, dryads and all
the fairies to dance at the Fairy Queen’s Ball.

Or, so my Daddy says.