A dryad is the spirit of a tree.
Without its dryad, any tree must die.
Melissa is the goddess of the bee;
Without her vital force, no bee can fly.

Alseids haunt the glen and grove and brake,
Oreads, the grotto, cave, and mountain.
Ouroboros vivifies the snake,
Naiads, each lake and spring and fountain.

Sylphs inhabit breezes, clouds, and air.
The salamander is the sylph of fire.
Most are faery female spirits fair,
Of love and beauty, passion and desire.

There be succubi, of course, that evil bode,
Medusas with their writhing hair of snakes,
Witches too, replete with paddock toad,
Or Vivien, evil Lady of the Lakes.

But the wifeyid is the strangest wraith of all,
Circling with her mesmerizing smile,
Holding hearth and home in constant thrall.
Will she be your guide? Or you beguile?

Agreeable she often seems ... and wise,
Assigns you tasks and then assigns them grades,
Offers unsolicited advice,
And closely monitors your FaceBook page.

Do you do things that strangely get ... undid?
Do you hide, but swiftly get ... unhid?
Or gently chide and then are harshly ... chid?
My friend, your home has got a wifeyid.

Her powers you have no powers to detect.
A wifeyid may haunt your house for years.
Amulets, hyssop, mugwort have no effect,
Nor exorcists, nor any trick with mirrors.

Call her phantom ... or as she may seem,
Chimera, anima, shade, or incarnation,
Quintessence, vital force, spirit, or dream,
Soul, mind, medium, or apparition.

The wifeyid’s goal is not to terminate you,
Not to rob or steal possessions from you,
Rather gradually to infiltrate you
And by a slow progression, friend ... BECOME you.

Seek as you may some niche for you alone,
The wifeyid may ignorance pretend,
Simulating niches of her own.
Trust in no such ignorance, my friend.

My wifeyid affects a falcon’s guise
Circling in her hypnotic gyre
Watching with her yellow eagle eyes
My every muscle twitch and heart’s desire.

A lonely falconer, I stand below and shout ...
Gloved in gauntlets falconry embossed ...
The ancient hunter’s warning that without
The falconer, the falcon must be lost.

But ‘tis not so. I have the world reversed.
The bird is free. I am the thing embossed.
Then make the best of what may seem the worst,
Even if the falconer be lost.

May impotence empower? At last I see
The wifeyid is part and parcel now. And I ...
Must keep safe the dryad of my tree
As my own heart ... and honor her or die.