On Faerie Knoll there grew a tree,
A throne of eldritch majesty;
The Elven Princes bent the knee
‘Neath springtime blossoms floating free.

In summer’s solstice fantasy,
On Faerie Knoll there grew a tree;
The madness of the apogee
Caused village folk to up and flee.

While autumn storms swept from the sea,
And stripped the woodland’s finery,
On Faerie Knoll there grew a tree,
With kingly feasts of wild glee.

As winter bit, catastrophe:
A mortal axe sang greedily;
Now men lament in memory:
“On Faerie Knoll there grew a tree…”

[Dan Stride loves literature in general, and speculative fiction in particular. He writes both short stories and poetry; his first novel, Wise Phuul is due for publication in November. He lives in Dunedin, New Zealand.]