Magical Forest
Oak’s canopy of green holds up the sky
Pierced by shafts of sunlight falling down
Illuminating the floor of moss-covered rocks
As fungal tables and chairs rise from underground
Upon moonlit nights such a scene comes alive
Fairies flutter from the sky to dance
Elves emerge from homes deep beneath roots
Goblins strut out from the undergrowth
How easily such forms escape the eye
Invisible to those who do not believe
Here in this ice-carved valley I stand
Among glacial erratics that litter the floor
Human forms ascend the rocks in day
Leaving the magical scene to others as dusk falls
Deep down below a tapping in the mines
Where rich veins hold their mineral store
Glow worms in banks then decorate a scene
As scent within the air diffuses and attracts
Moths guided through the night to meet
As old wart upon a path slowly crawls
See now as fairies dance the ring
Listen to sweet voices as elves sing
Yet when morning comes they have gone
Leaving no trace except for those who believe
Copyright: David Hopcroft January 2026
Park Bench Tales and other writings 