First spring day visiting stone ruins, grass
Overgrown in summer, miserable in winter,
Desolation heart-piercing, wind-bracing
Outpost, keen eyes headlands-searching,
For Iron Age, Norse sea invaders, or keeping
Beacon fires alight, safe passage for kindred
Seafarers. Yet, I, Willow, had other thoughts,
Resting place, protection from ocean winds,
Sharp bite upon my face, sea coldness-
Clinging until summer-hot days.
Into timeless sleep I slipped, present days
Retreating beyond grasp, skin boot kick
Awakened me, Norse and Celtic warriors.
“Lost Druid girl,” condemning eyes, voices
Surmised, languages foreign to my ears.
At sword-point, asked, “What brings you
Here?” To east I pointed, sun-sighting
Stones. “Rising Day’s Eye, golden chariot,
Heavenly horses sky-galloping equinox,
Outer Hebrides isles life rebirthed.”
This single day, winter passage into
Spring, cold graves gave up dead, around
Me stood clans of ages past, ruins now
Stout roundhouse, except for thatch roof,
Hillside built, defensive-disappearing.
Time-lingering souls, fiery sun took flight,
Over ancient hilltops rose, celebrations,
Prayers, all eyes on me fixed, Druidic
Guidance, rites life-giving or blade blood-
Letting animal sacrifice.
Of myself, scarf thrown into circle-center,
Winter outcast by us all, each such things
Circle sent, prayers to goddess Eostra,
Blessings sought, life-balance, night and day,
Growing fields, harvests, sea and land, sun,
Rain, thanks given. Stonehouse feasting,
Plenty served, until twilight, Iron Age, Norse
Clans mist-faded. I, Willow, cold awakened,
Golden chariot into sea-clouds set, my scarf
In stone circle, all this lived or dreamt.
For spring equinox, poem of ceremony and rebirth.
Thanks for reading.