June Poems Series No. 7

SUMMER SOLSTICE

Despite the science,

mystery still exists,

with magick as it’s alliance.

Science protests and resists.

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Our ancestors built henges of stone,

To worship the sun as it rises and sets.

Where the wind cries out with a moan,

and a lonely, lost soul still frets.

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Were humans sacrificed here,

by Druid priests dressed in white?

Can we still taste that palpable fear?

As we watch this majestic sight.

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Or was it a measurement of time?

Summer Solstice the longest of days,

when daylight reigns, a sign

as the wheel turns in an endless maze.

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Time marches on to the Autumn Equinox,

when day and night hours are equal.

The wheel turns again like a cunning fox,

when night hours are more than days – a fitting sequel.

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Winter Solstice is the opposite of summer;

the shortest day, the longest night.

Tired of stories, games and plays with mummers,

the wheel turns again to Spring, a blesséd sight!

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Spring Equinox bursts forth fresh and new;

again daytime hours are the same as night.

Then behold, the Summer Solstice harkens the few,

as mankind acknowledges the bright shining light.

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The wheel of the year turns eternal

as it did in our ancestors time.

From solstice to equinox; summer, winter, autumnal and vernal.

still turning our world still marking tide and time.