Skye/Fairy Pond

Across the water,

By the Bay of Portree,

Where stand many a fairy mound,

And up a small stream,

Beside a few-troden path,

Lays a small pond and waterfall,

Claimed by the Fair Folk.

The water there flows,

Gently from a spring,

Off rocks where it pools,

And flows in a stream.

A small clearing,

Deep in the woods,

Where the Fair Folk,

Dance in the pale moonlight,

Unbeknownst to man,

Except the reflection,

Of the water,

Doesn't reflect quite right.

And nary a loud bird,

Or creature dare sing.