I have several posts in the pipeline, but I am extraordinarily tired. In the meantime, here is a new poem draft. For the meaning of the word 'seelie', which, with its antonym 'unseelie', has always been one of my favorite words, see here.
In brightness born of moonflow, here I bathe,
the stars stretched out like pebbles where I wade,
and here I wash my soul and here I play,
for night is more a friend to me than day
when silver on the flowers like a dew
of light gives every stem a seelie hue
and night like velvet black wraps diamonds fair
that glance out in your eye and in your hair.
What care I for a throne or crowns or rings?
With treasures formed of moonlight I am king.