In response to Eugi’s weekly prompt, “fairy“, a poem about flying ants – which are very fey, in their own way. They swarm one night a year in late summer, usually after rain, and every year they catch me by surprise:
Once upon a summer gloaming
a cloud of fey-folk filled the air.
I paused there in my evening roaming
to watch them fly, those folk so fair.
Glistered wings, flinging dusk-light –
rose and gold, ‘twixt veins of black,
all risen for this single night
from earth below. Not one turns back.
For in the whirl they seek a mate –
in aery dance, to pair and marry –
the dance of love, that death will sate.
Then coiled in helix, new queens carry
the future-fey, tucked safe inside.
But most will fall, their dusk-life done:
ten-thousand deaths in darkness hide.
By dawn-light all the fey have gone.
Their scattered wings lie lost, forlorn,
but ‘neath the ground, unseen yet near,
they build and lay – no rest to mourn –
so the new brood flies again, next year.