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
Wendy Alford 11th May 2011
Thank you to Bernie Bell for sending in this poem by Wendy Alford