Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glenπŸƒπŸ„πŸƒ

Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen πŸ™…πŸ»β€β™€οΈ

A mantle of snow shone brightly that night
As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.πŸ’₯

The faeries have nestled all snug in their trees,πŸƒπŸƒ

Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.πŸ“πŸ„

The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,πŸ§šβ€β™€οΈ

Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.πŸ’€

When low! πŸ‘©β€πŸŒΎ

The earth moved with a thunderous quake,πŸ’₯

Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.πŸ™πŸ‘¨πŸΌβ€πŸš€

The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feetπŸŽ‘

Then raced to the river where they usually meet.πŸ„πŸ₯€β˜―

β€œWhat happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed πŸ’₯

As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.πŸ‘©β€πŸŒΎ

β€œWhat caused the earth’s shudder? πŸ’«

What caused her to shiver?”
They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.πŸ’­

Then what to their wondering eyes should appearπŸ‘€

But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.πŸ’«

It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,πŸ’₯

Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.✨

Before they could murmur before they could bustle,

There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,πŸ™†β€β™€οΈπŸ§“

A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,πŸ‘΅

Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.πŸ‘©β€πŸ¦³

As she passed by them the old crone’s perfume,πŸ€¦β€β™€οΈ

Smelling of meadows and flowers bloom, πŸ₯€πŸ‚

Made each of the fey folk think of the springπŸƒ

When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.πŸ•Š

β€œMy name is Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed
in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,πŸ§šβ€β™€οΈπŸ‘¨πŸΌβ€πŸš€πŸƒ

β€œI’ve come to remind you, for you seem to forget,
that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”πŸ’₯

β€œI see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,

The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells

Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,
Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”

β€œThere aren’t any children at play in the snow,

Or houses lit up by candles’ glow.✨

Have you forgotten, my children, the fun
Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?β€πŸ˜Œ

She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,

As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.

Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,

β€œCome, my children,” she said, β€œLet’s play.”, πŸ§šβ€β™€οΈ

They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,

Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.

They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.πŸ‘¨πŸΌβ€πŸš€

They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.πŸ˜‰

They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,πŸ’₯

In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.

They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,

Then surrounded them with snowbirds, and snow cats and bats.

Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,

Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,

The fey folk they gathered β€˜round their favorite oak tree
And welcomed the sun β€˜neath the tree’s finery.

They were just reaching home when it suddenly came,

The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.

It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar
The golden-like sphere turned into a star.✨

The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,
β€œHappy Yuletide, my children,” she whispered.

β€œGood night.β€βœ¨