The Field Of Moss In An Adirondack Forest Poem by Karl Carpenter

A mass of moss that covers the clearing,
an ocean of purple and white
that's soft and wet at dawn with dew,
but crusty and dry by night.

Surrounded by a horde of green-
it's dotted with baby pines,
and bordered by seas of blueberry bushes,
with plenty of places to hide.

The perfect realm for fairies to live,
with berries for them to eat,
the moss in which to work their magic,
small pines to have a seat.

An open forest surrounding it
in which for them to fly,
pines and deciduous spread about,
also conceal the sky.

The fairies will not show their faces,
I've never seen a one,
they'd rather be mysterious,
and not come into the sun.

Still, I look every morning there,
their Adirondack home,
to see if I can spot some wings,
or fairy-flying zone.