The sunbeams glow against a naked sky – dressed contentedly assuring – azure in blue,
The breeze is at its ease – barely moving the trees – as our company moves on through!
A soundtrack of speech bubbles crossing generations – within a Songbird singalong song,
Remembering old footprints with each new step – echoing the ages built fine and strong!
The gate swings open bathed in shadow – following the pathway leading into the light,
The hedges blossom with flowers and leaves – with life in the sunshine shining bright!
A pair of Pear Trees take centre stage – defined in white clusters their seasonal veil,
There’s a scattering of Primroses in nooks and corners – a breath to slow inhale!
Admiring familiar horizons – holding the moment – a vale in the palm of a hand,
A faraway pocket where landmarks come and go – where the stones of history stand!
The Eastern ditch – can run at fever pitch – now gentle meanders over the Willow roots,
Welcome the Bluebells of Hawthorn hollow – as they seize the day in their birthday suits!
Weaving the threading of random reaches – converging on a gathering – all and one,
Second breakfast comes and goes – as our number grows – sharing the warmth of the sun!
Preparation remembers the truth of beginnings – winding back the hands of the clock,
To the humble stumbling’s – of those early rumblings – with plenty of time to unlock!
With its teachings and learning – the spiral’s turning – the Sun-wheel’s come and go,
In and out through the seasons – for a multitude of reasons – slowly going with the flow!
The memory of origins – whisper echoes of wonder – gathering in the wood with the trees,
Stepping out of the shadows with the forming of circles – with the Oak and buzz of Bees!
As clouds we fly – in the twinkling of an eye – on the winds of time and tide,
We witness the call – of the rise and the fall – as the Green Man soon greets his bride!
There’s a kindred gathering – expanding connection – with the will of Skydrift Moon,
The feminine Sentinel – living her lunar lines in full – as she emerges from her cocoon!
Draped in the colours of sympathetic union – sharing in the bond with the Sun,
We break the bread of celebration – with a toast of mead – as a new beginning’s begun!
Little Raven passes on her congratulations – laid out beautifully on the perfect page,
As the crowds disperse – we find the time to converse – and we could do so for an age!