Through the front window I can see a fairy in the garden. She’s out there among the nasturtiums.
She doesn’t know I can see her but the window allows me to see what others cannot.
I’m watching her as she moves below the flowers, a bag is slung across her shoulder and she’s gathering something from under each flower and stuffing it in her bag.
Every now and then she looks around as if expecting company, hesitates a second before carrying on her task. I wonder what it is she is collecting and I speculate its use.
I think she’s all but finished now as she is skipping between the remaining blooms as if making sure what she has come for has been collected.
I blink and she’s gone. The garden is back to its peaceful self, the flowers wave as a soft breeze drifts by and I wonder where she has gone and if she’ll be back.