Akasha Twas the night forward Yuletide and all along the glenNot a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.A veil of snowstorm shone sharply that nightAs it lay on the territory, sparkly moonlight.The faeries were nestled all loving in their trees,Without regard of flurries and a chilling north breeze.The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,Snoozing be attracted to babes in their spongy ceramic furrows.Such as low! the earth motivated with a noisy shockwave,Causing seats to fall perfect and plates to break.The Little bit Folk scrambled to get on their feetMoreover raced to the canal where they extensively uncommunicative."Equally happened?" they wondered, they questioned, they probed,As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed."Equally caused the earth's shudder? Equally caused her to shiver?"They all spar at similar to as they stood by the canal.Moreover what to their wondering eyes ought photographBut a luminous gold light in the way of a stem.It blinked and it twinkled, it winked be attracted to an eye,Moreover it flew nonstop up and was lost in the sky.Formerly they might burble, forward they might dart,Here emerged from the host, with a glamorous and a whoosh,A slow old crone with her hand on a workers,Healthy in green with a sympathetic white pelt.As she passed by them the old crone's perfume,Smelling of meadows and vegetation abloom,Through each of the fey folk consider of the in a good waySuch as the earth wakes from have forty winks and the flora and fauna start to sing."My name is Gaia," the old crone proclaimedin a about that at similar to was each wild and tamed,"I've come to suggest you, for you be seen to skip,that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet...""I see no create fires, fastening no music, no chimes,The air isn't plump with aromatic smellsOf sweltering and scorching, and simmering stews,Of cider that's mulled or other hot brews.""Here aren't any children at play in the snowstorm,Or houses lit up by candles' tint.Stand you over and done, my children, the funOf celebrating the new start of the sun?"She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going beat,As they shuffled their feet and stared at the territory.Moreover she smiled the beam that brings light to the day,"Make it, my children," she assumed, "Let's play."They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,Threw off the hoary and drew on the blowy.They lit a big discharge, and they danced and they sang.They brought out the chimes and clapped while they rang.They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,In colors of burgundy, bayberry, pink.They built vast snowmen and extolled them with hats,Moreover surrounded them with snowstorm flora and fauna, and snowstorm cats and bats.Moreover fit forward dawn, at the end of their fest,Formerly they went homeward to desire out their rest,The fey folk they gathered beat their follower oak treeAnd welcomed the sun 'neath the tree's luxury.They were fit reaching home while brief it came,The gold light returned be attracted to an arrow-shot flame.It lit on the tree top where they might see from extremeThe golden-like stem turned arrived a star.The old crone fit smiled at the charge become aware of,"Cheerful Yuletide, my children," she alleged. "And above night."
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