Have you ever wondered at the tones of silent gloom to be found in the loneliest depths of the great oak forest?
They say the woodland pools of old often rippled in joyous babble, home to happy throngs of Naiads.
One cloudless summer night, weary from daylong dancing with dragonflies, all all asleep, the Naiads of the Round Lake dreamed a collective dream of honeysuckle and summer lightning.
The Solitary Goddess, travelling at the tip top of Her night sky, opened Her one white eye.
From Her heart of silver, She looked out upon the oak woods.
In a clearing, She saw it. She saw a fine and handsome fine Moon there below, shamelessly staring up at Her!
Quickly, quickly, before any churlish curl of cloud could form, She stooped a brilliant Moonbeam silently down and through the canopy of trees to fetch Him.
The bright arm of Moonbeam dipped deep, cupped the still waters where the Spirits of the Lake floated all in their mystery, and Moonbeam splashed them up and up, high over the lake shore, pell-mell up the valley’s wooded slope.
To this day, if you dare venture to walk so far into these so, oh so silent woods, you may see the bodies of the watery people clinging on where they were stranded.
Motionless as clinging ivy on the grey dry bark of the mute and ancient oaks.
[Photo – Ceregidion oak by Chris Adams]