Beltane

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.