HANNA'S WALK

How silently they tumble down
And come to rest upon the ground
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care,
Content to sleep, their work well done,
Colors gleaming in the sun.

At other times, they wildly fly
Until they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow.
By Elsie N. Brady, Leaves

You don’t have to travel far to experience magic.
We are carrying the magic inside ourselves, though it needs to be rediscovered occasionally.
Small children don’t look for magic. The magic lives within them and they are surrounded by it.
Their world is full of trolls and dragons, castles and mountains. Tigers, lions and brave knights. Not necessarily in that order.
I met a young Spanish couple in Jægersborg Dyrehave. They looked so bewildered, that I asked if I could help.
Did I know the way to The Eremitage Castle? I pointed out the direction. They asked me if there was anything else I could recommend?
I told them about the very special Hawthorn that grows on the plain.
And about a place nearby where many people from Copenhagen were buried back in the 1800 due to a cholera epidemic.
And about the deer, I met the day before and while I told them about the nature I noticed the difference in their facial expression.
As if they woke up.
The woman spoke softly in Spanish to her boyfriend, and pointed up into the treetops. It was the ravens.
Their scream and busy life, tells about the fall.
The mood is suddenly magical.
The silence, interrupted by screams of the ravens, the roar of the stags and then silence.
And while we look in between the trees, shadows come alive.
Sometimes it’s a deer and sometimes it’s just fantasy.
Fantasy is magic.
The way they thank me when we part tells me they’ve just regained their magic ❤

 

 

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