The white parasol twirls,
dips and bobs in the
Fairy Queen’s slender hand.

The midsummer sun
dapples her pale cheeks,
gilding her glossy curls.

Beetles play at her feet,
like infants in the grass.
Ruby Columbine drops

petals-tears the
flavor of honey nectar,
tasted beside a wild rose ruin.

Her sisters pass out starry bud cups.
The queen nods her thanks.
The sweet scent combines with

thyme and sage, making the air
alive with color and promise.
The Fairy Queen’s eyes hide

behind the tilt of lace as she
hobnobs with nabobs,
each of them drinking.

None may know
what she’s thinking.

Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham