Headless martyrs are riding caribou into
the international forest again. Fairies sipping
nectar from hyacinths chuckle at this scene.

They remember why bushmen lick beehives
with honey-coated tongues and challenge
enemies to do the same. Their numbers are

low. Avoiding spear fights: supreme gift.
Whenever gifts are plucked from quiescent
porches, fairies cry because thieves are on the 

run, breaking their promises to Mab, zipping 
through the underbrush where fire ants dwell. 
But the ants pay no attention. World-building 

comes first. Leaves need to be gathered and 
stored. Grains counted. The insomniac queen 
can sleep when the rains come.

***

Photo by Salmen Bejaoui on Unsplash