Beltane Night

Beneath the twinkling sky,
a forest filled with eyes
faces in the trees,
the wood is alive.

By the juniper roots
a doorway is shown
as the springtime primrose
touches the stone.

The ravens are crowing
in the windswept field.
Mysteries are growing
as fast as they’re revealed,

The gift of forgetting
sorrowful deeds,
the joy of remembering
the wind amongst the reeds.

Oh the ghosts are gay to gather
when the host welcomes them in,
and who’s to refuse
the company of friends.

For the kin we are seeking
have been here all along,
may the circle be strong,
let the wood be filled with song.

On Beltane night
amidst the candlelight,
Dancing figures
gathered in our sight,

Fleeting visions,
in the beating of wings,
That we might see
the soul in everything that is.