I feel the fabric of magic in autumn. Under the autumn twilight of the sun, it is easier for me to slip unaware into the faerie lands.
I was standing on top of a steep slope, looking down at my small stone circle that rests upon the embankment above a swiftly flowing stream. I noticed my small circle of stones shining golden beneath the twilight of the autumn sun. As I watched, each stone’s skin was shimmering, then breathing and stretching into a slow, lumbering, clockwise dance.
Suddenly, a blue jay screamed. A crow chuckled. I blinked, and the stones grew still. But the magic remained with me like strands of a broken spiderweb brushing across my skin.