Bonfires dot the rolling hillsides.
Figures dance around and around
to drums that pulse out echoes of darkness;
moving to the pagan sound.
Somewhere in a hidden memory
images float before my eyes
of fragrant nights of straw and of bonfires,
dancing till the next sunrise.
I can see the lights in the distance
trembling in the dark cloak of night.
Candles and lanterns are dancing, dancing
a waltz on all souls night.
Figures of cornstalks bend in the shadows
held up tall as the flames leap high.
The Green Knight holds the holly bush
to mark where the old year passes by.
Bonfires dot the rolling hillsides.
Figures dance around and around
to drums that pulse out echoes of darkness;
moving to the pagan sound.
Standing on the bridge that crosses
the river that goes out to the sea.
The wind is full of a thousand voices;
they pass by the bridge and me.