The glazier who replaced my broken window pane used fairy glass. Now when I look at midnight or when the moon is full I see a landscape I have come to call Crystalia. The apple tree, its branches woven into wings, has taken flight. The apples, green and red, are navigation lights, are naked flames that take uncommon shape from movements of the wings. The ethereal glow, much brighter than the moon, appears to flow from every object in my view, and if I close my eyes and wander out and through the copse, the change is more complete, for looking up, the stars, I see, have left the sky. They hang now from the branches like a thousand chandeliers. Sometimes a star falls from a branch and fiscles on the ground and earth turns slowly round the sprijly, sprounding thing until it cristles out. But all the while it fiscles there a silent music fills the air and I am more content; content with earth and fellow men and what life holds for me. It's winter now, and rainbow coloured snow falls, glowing, on the fields. Some rises up in spectral forms to whisper up the distant peaks like mountaineers together roped with twisted tongues of fire. Some merely lies, heaves, smoulders, shines, like a great sea of coloured mercury. Sometimes the dreaded Tube will come, building slowly like a summer storm as black clouds round its edges spin and mix the elements of good and bad that threaten from within. I've seen it swallow oak trees whole and spit out animals as big as cows. But then, when Graunules swim above the trees, you know the tube has spent its ire and all is well again.
Written for Kerry's Wednesday Challenge , Building Worlds at imaginary garden with real toads though regrettably written a few days late.