Summer Isles

Today's poem is looking at summer, and that rather fantastical film "The Wicker Man", so here is a little dark paganism in the bright summer days, drawing from the story of that film (the original, not the dreadful remake):

Summer Isles
 
Dancing naked over the flame
Where fire on a headland burns
Calling on the Celtic gods by name
Now is the time the wheel turns
 
At the Green Man Inn, all is in hand
A dancer sings, with sensuous sway
To call for the blessings on the land
By the olden rites, the Pagan way
 
And now the Wicker Man awaits
For the sacrifice, for harvest good
As the ancient manuscript relates
It is time to set alight the wood
 
Lord Summerisle is chanting loud
The smoke is rising like a shroud