A Forboding Silence in the Nights Air
A Shimmering Mist Around the Woodland Pool
As Clouds Move Across the Moon
As I Recline in the Long Grass
Becoming One with a Sky Full of Stars
Great Oak Glows in the Twilight
I Feel It Always, the Spectre of This Field
Joined Hands at the Midnight Ritual
Permeating Visions of Emerald Figures
Quiet Reflection in the Solitary Cabin
Rain Falling on Sycamore Leaves
The Glade Where We Fell into Silence
The Magic Has Always Been in These Woods
Traces of a Small Stone Circle
Tumbling Banks of Bramble and Stone
Upon a Hill, Fairy Folk Are Gathering