Meandering along the river: three friends
Through the woods in its growing verdure,
At the edge of April
The water ripples and riffles
Catching the last light of evening
Filtered through luminous lime-green
leaves.
Cow parsley and hawthorn line the way
Buds newly bursting to gild the green
With frothy white flowers.
An orange glow in the gloaming
Guides us into the open Arms of the Royal Oak
Leaning against the grain of the wooden bar
To toast the season, fizzing
With fresh watercress ale brewed by a giant
We savour the moment and the company
By raising our glasses
To chink and drink accordingly.
Outside: a full moon, Egg Moon,
Breaks through the thinly clouded sky, until
It’s caught in the branches of a still bare
ash
Where we stand and stare with wide-eyed wonder.
It’s still dark and starry as we stir
(Not quite) the next day
Dawn dreaming itself into being
As we stand innocently awake
Drinking tea and tasting the time between
times
Others, from other places, assemble around us
Moving as strange shadows, but with common purpose
Silently stepping from the sleeping woodside
Towards a long-appointed meeting-place.
Now, there, then:
A blackbird, breaking the stillness
Then all around and all at once
The sound of more birds singing
A chorus of approval for the dawn.
A barrel of beer, Beltane-brewed,
Has been brought to the summit
At the peak of its powers
For this golden crowning moment
Relished and then instantly refreshed.
Behind us, in April: the pale full moon
Fading but flirting with its consorting star
Sublimely shifting from Evening to Morning.
But now the golden chariot of the sun has
gathered speed
And inexorably climbs up the green hill
To kiss the white giant
Rudely defiant and holding us together with his
presence.
A song and a dance
A dalliance between ancient and new
Until merry with May, and smiling,
We slowly roll down the hill
Following an empty barrel of beer.
