Building Worlds : Crystalia

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.

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Written for Kerry's Wednesday Challenge , Building Worlds at imaginary garden with real toads though regrettably written a few days late.