When the sun rises tomorrow morning in Jersey, it will be the start of Midsummer Day. I though the Saturday poem this week should reflect that. Perhaps the shades of those past ages will be at the dolmen, shadows of the people of an ancient world, ghosts of a lost epoch. Who knows!
Midsummer at the Dolmen
Dawn breaks, and the tribe came
Fit and young, the old and lame
All to these sacred stones, a place
Where boundaries show a trace
Of the thin veil, another world
A sliver of light is now unfurled
The priestess chants the ritual lay
The portal opening on this day
The time is now, dawn set free
With yellow sun upon the sea
Blue waves washing on the shore
The opening of the sacred door
Now they circle round and round
Hand in hand around the mound
The midsummer fire set on flame
In welcome as the sun god came
And in our day, few stones be left
A circle wall, and an entrance cleft
But as dawn comes, the magic too
As the sun rises, sea breeze blew
The druids gather once more time
To honour again the gods sublime
Staffs raised high, in greeting cry
As glowing sun ascends the sky
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