Braid the cattles' horns with daisies
now the winter's finally passed.
The pretty maidens all come lilting
one by one across the grass.
flowers in their hair, and singing,
dresses glimmering soft and sweet,
and they dance around the maypole,
tripping softly on light feet.
The Beltane fire is burning,
casting embers on the lawn.
Make your wish, set your intention
before the spring has come and gone.
Gather 'round the fire, my sisters.
Lift your pretty skirts up high.
One great leap, your curls a-flying,
as the lads all pine and sigh.
You're a mix of strong emotions,
half-demure, yet mostly wild.
Ride your wild-horse heart with caution,
half-woman, still mostly child.
Dance around the pretty maypole.
One by one, you claim your power.
From girl to woman you are changing,
like the springtime claims its hour.
from 2016, Beltane in the northern hemisphere, my Irish roots are stirring. Shared with Real Toads on the Tuesday Platform.