Fragments of Faerie

Part of me lives in fragments
of faerie and every wild thing
field of vision half covered
by climbing vines
not sure where sun turns to mist
no creature, only sound
found in between
found in the cracks of backyards
and lost between two blinks
images shifting
rarely coming at will
but late summer always arrives
when least expected
and thins the veil
between sleep and book pages.