Carve silence, churl, carve

absence into aroma

you don’t miss their faces you miss their sheen

ælfscin
or aura, the light around one

that makes her who or him she is,

elf-shine the preter-human shown,

faërie folk are what we must become,

elves are not some belated ancient lingerers

they are our future selves

keen wise dangerous and rife with pleasures

we catch a glimpse of them sometimes

when the moon or noon be right

and the shadow falls

they are we will be

and till then be quiet, read your tree.