It was just off the narrow path of a shamrock filled lane that I first caught a glimpse. The sky was brightly lit by a full smiling moon when I spotted the trunk of a faerie tree. This I thought must be an Irish reverie! I heard the nearby sound of fluttering wings. They must be near. Are they playing another lively round of Circle Round the Castle? I rubbed my eyes. Was it the wind rustling the ash tree leaves? I slowly took a few steps and suddenly a faerie ring was in front of me. So I sat at the base of the nearby mighty oak and all of the secrets of Eire and it folks pint sized to stout came unraveling. It was a long yarn of lore from each kilt and clan, one that was surely meant not for me but the ears of newborn Leprechauns. I counted the moment as another tale of the Irish blessings. A stout tale that was bound to cure all that surely was ailing me. My head was spinning .My sight grew dim. Dry mouthed, with not a drop to whet my whistle I still cannot believe what happened next. A group of lovely faeries flew near. Soft and glistening they whispered of the Blarney Stone, the Burren and other secrets of Eire. Then they asked me to join in and suddenly I realized that I too had wings! Erin go Braugh they cried! Eire heart, oh Eireheart I followed with pride. We gathered together and in the air drew a heart and then off we flew throughout the moonlit night.