The Gathering

The Solar flares, and the possible Aurora over Britain prompted this. How must our ancestors thought of the heavens?

The Gathering
 
Blessed is the grove apart
On old straight track, our road
Where a druid intones prayers
And Dryads find abode
 
The starry sky, the heavens
In conjunctions now they bring
Portents to the world of men
Their Pattern, spheres now sing
 
Now face the Northern pole
According to the chart
And ask for signs and wonders shown
That  bring joy to the heart
 
Opening ritual do we seek
Here will our blessing be
That making and now set apart
A temple, we decree.