Through the brightly coloured silken fronds, swirling
and plaiting around the old ship’s mast,
flashes a vision: Fresh-faced young sailor,
dancing the hornpipe.
*
Now, with grey beard and boots strapped tightly, to hold
aching ankles, your legs again take flight,
sending you skipping, with pigtail flying,
around the maypole.
*
My smile meets yours, as we duck and weave, ribbons
of laughter flicker through the dusk,
squeezed accordion notes impel our feet
on to the end.
*
Beltane fires send out sparks, like shooting stars, and
light up glowing faces, raised in prayer,
ignite hope in our hearts, for we leap, hands clasped,
over the embers.
*
When we leave, the ritual ended, you are lighter
of step, although tired, we are wreathed in serene smiles,
a dark shadow has lifted, dancing strangers become friends,
in the magic of
this night.
Wendy Alford 11th May 2011

credit: Bernie Bell
Thank you to Bernie Bell for sending in this poem by Wendy Alford
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