Even Fairy children get into mischief… perhaps especially fairy children get into mischief.

There is a golden apple
Hanging from a tree
The grove belongs to Manannan
The apple belongs to me.

The silver leaves sing softly
Inviting me to sleep.
And dream of things most lofty
In the clover deep.

I will not listen to them
Or he’ll catch me here
Drowsing in the clover
With my apple there.

I’ll sneak off to his Doorstep
By the threshold of the sea
And if he does not catch me
I’ll plant a silver tree!

My Golden Apple copyright © Heather Strickler 2026 All rights reserved