off-season elves

when Christmas day has come gone and no presents are left to unwrap,
and the stores have stopped blaring their endlessly regurgitated sap;
when the snow has lost its magic as you contemplate graying bleakness,
and the sight of turkey leftovers brings on waves of stomach weakness;
when trash bins are overflowing with tree corpses and wrinkled paper,
and the TV set's been stored away to avoid Frank Capra's caper;
Santa's band of elves will close up shop, and put away their bell-trimmed suits,
and resume their haunts in forests, and their accustomed sprightly pursuits.

like teaching trills to robins and larks for summoning summer's birth,
and folding the petals of flowers, still concealed in the frozen earth.
taking dictation from forest folk, and sage advice from bumblebees,
and practicing walking soundlessly while absconding with people's keys.
obscuring marks on measuring tape, to confound the assessments of girth,
undermining the self-important with distracting cackles of mirth.
comparing notes with fairies and gnomes, or tickling pixies on their knees,
getting high on fermented berries, and sleeping it off in the trees.

attending soirées in swanky dens, and teas in well-appointed lairs,
sneaking into laundries late at night and estranging socks from their pairs.
mixing the colors used in rainbows with naturally pigmented dyes,
tripping up pride just before it falls, and entangling the webbing of lies.
releasing springs in people's footsteps, and thawing their ice-laden stares,
flinging resentments out of windows, or slinging slippers under chairs.
kindling hopes in hardened hearts, and placing sparkles in children's eyes,
and disarming alarming nightmares with discretely secreted sighs.

but out of all these elfin doings what really sets their souls to flight
is throwing in their lot with nature and singing out with all their might,
harmonizing with the shadows, and the various layers of light,
caroling with their animal friends in voices both clear and bright,
inventing songs to sing to the moon and to comfort the starry night.

to accompany their melodies they lend their breath to oboes and flutes,
and flexing their nimble fingers play arpeggios on harps and lutes.
some are adept at coaxing rhythm with silver bells and castanets,
while others evoke watery sounds from the throats of their clarinets.
the goblins are rock'n'rollers favoring tunes they learned in bars
but lacking electricity make do with acoustic guitars.
the imps have taken a shine to rap, and spend whole nights beneath the stars,
throbbing and grooving to the beat from their perches on the roofs of cars.

but most fairy folk prefer forests and companionship with creatures,
and music which awakens minds to the span of their better features.
their lyrics are calculated to make truth and compassion ignite,
and they carry on till dawn arrives and their mirages fade from sight.
so if you hear magical sounds emerge from the edge of awareness,
and visions appear which tug at your heart, and your inborn sense of fairness,
don't worry whether you've lost your mind or stumbled on something scary,
for chances are you've happened upon off-season elves making merry.