There are fairies in my yard. I've seen them with my own eyes.
Sometimes it's only a glint of emerald or a glimmer of ruby
as they dip and dart and dance through the air.
At other times, they hover like tiny drones right in front of the kitchen window,
full of dazzling color and fairy charm,
winking at me between sips from the flowering quince.
And just before sunrise, when I go out for the morning paper,
I hear fairy voices calling from the bottle brush tree.
Sometimes, it seems like they're talking to me.
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