GLADE OF ESTERHEIN… a poem

green grasses near trees
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Secrets held in the Glade of Esterhein

Protected by the Leprechaun King

Shadows cloaked from sunlight’s spies

Camouflaged from mortal beings

   

Custody for not man to hold

For centuries have they lain imbued

Spilling their sides, these pots of gold

A fever of platitude

   

Aye, to the wiser who walk this field

‘Tis better to turn one’s head

For if ye ever stumble and steal

Surely, you will end up dead

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