CC Willow watercolor "Wood He Say That Again"
Wood He Say That Again?

These are my more fantastical pieces – they include fairies, dragons &  whatnot …

Samples below

  • Night Fairy
  • “Sometimes” Said the Pixie
  • The Skippier
  • I Talk to My Cats
  • A Fairy Wonders
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Night Fairy

She dives and she flies
and picks up souls with a flash of smile;
she sighs and she cries
and begs you sit with her a while.

She knows how to use
her laughs as a lie,
she knows how to gather
a love song from a guy
and how to string a friend to the wind
and weave leaves into a crown that lasts;
yet there’s a desperation in her eye
and her engine runs a little too fast

She dives and she flies
and picks up souls with a flash of smile;
she burns and she churns
and she begs you to say with her a while.

You watch her chase others
her tulle skirt catching as she turns;
her muse is catching fire
as her mind and fingers burn.
She won’t realized as you lay your cloak down
you offered your heart with the glove;
her heart is only a library loan,
she wonders why she can’t find love

She dives and she sighs
and picks up souls with a flash of smile.
She flies and she ties
and begs you to sit with her a while.

Will she ever realize how often
she walks in her dreams to your arms?
Will she realize how easily you accept
her madness not hidden by her charms;
she’ll flit and she’ll flutter,
burn through friends and life with haste;
will she realize, as long as she lives,
she’ll never forget your face.

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Sometimes” Said the Pixie

I feel I don’t belong
in this world
of Giants

Such as when I sit in a chair
and my back doesn’t touch it’s back
and my feet swing a few inches
above the floor.
Or when I sit at a table
and the wooden tabletop is level
with my neck.
Or having to climb on a chair
to reach the second shelf.

Then there are the Looks
one gets from Them.
The Amused Look
they give me when I ask Them
to get something  down
that I couldn’t quite reach.
The Surprised Look
from the Ticket-Lady
when I pay the full adult price.
The Pity Look
I get while watching Men dance with Women
who come up to Their chins
and not the middle of Their chests.

And knowing
for the rest of my life
it would be this way,
out of place
in a World of massive, oversized proportions.

I wonder how I seem to Them,
the Giants who give me the Pity Look;
and I wonder how they would do
in a world fitted for me.

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The Skipper

What a pretty ball you have …
Excuse me, that’s your eye.
Isn’t the grass so nice and soft?
Did you know that I can fly?
Can I ask you a question …
I’ll ask it anyway.
Why do you want to be sitting
in a square on such a pretty day?

I think I’ll pull off your wig …
oh, it’s your real hair.
Why don’t you have a seat?
Sorry, I pulled away your chair.
Isn’t the ground nice and cool
Lying on your back looking at the sky?
Don’t the clouds look so free?
Did you know that you can fly?

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I Talk to My Cats

I talk to my cats.

Those who overhear me
may think me strange
as I limit our conversations
to their native tongue,
a language based upon
a single word, “meow”.
Repeated, it’s double syllables
varies in length and tones
to cover all that needs to be said
in this microcosm of their world.

My cats understand me, flattered
at my enthusiasm to imitate intelligent conversation
and they in return make every effort
to help this human understand
even if they must repeat themselves
for the “slow-learner” to “get it”.
I can discern the brief greeting across the street
or an invitation to come over & pet them,
discern an inquiry if there’s enough food & water out
or an update that both are in need of freshening.

I can speak clearly in “Cat”; an implied threat
to Moon not to chase Meiken,
Meiken not to chase Casey,
a confirmation to Casey that she is under protection.
Their response to my lecturing
is a guilty glance to their intended victim and
a regal pose with undisturbed independence …
yet they don’t dare move.
I inject only those unelegant human words
I am sure they can understand;
harsh words, such as “No”,  “Watch your claws”,
or the pleasing phrasing of their name.

I do not mislead myself into thinking
I am an expert at “Cat”,
but I am pleased to say I am proficient enough
to satisfy my smug, indulgent housemates.

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A Fairy Wonders

What to write
to soothe a teething dragon;
what frivolous bubble will distract from
tiny stalactites pushing through?
Shall I tell her how the Nanny Wind teases the crook of the wind
sending ticklish shivers like a tiny snowstorms across the leather
and how the Mother Air allows herself to be scooped up
With each downstroke, like ice cream,
and how never to fear if she falls – for Father Ocean is below?
Shall I tell her the feather clouds will try to slide into her nose as she flies by,
hitchhiking, for they are jealous of their baby sister flying so fast?
Shall I tell her how she can snatch the proud eagle & carry it around as her dolly,
dressing it up with skirts of leaves & necklaces of ocean foam for tea parties,
How being tucked in with a mountain as a blanket
ensures a tiara of glittering scales?
What verbal jestering will send her giggling,
somersaulting on her tail …

And not eating me?

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