inhale my sage, mint,
 basil, saint john’s wort,
 sunflower and lavender

 leap through my balefire
 an ‘I do’

 burn my gorse and hay
 fields to stubble

 dress me in dried herbs,
 potpourri, seashells, summer flowers, and fruits.

 colour me blue, green, and yellow

 let me handfast to you
 think on harvest to come


breathe in mistletoe
 oak, rowan, and fir.

 watch sticky moon rise
 as if honey
 outa hive

 yon fires r small suns
 t’ massive blaze
 nar set this short neet

 she as bairn
 in her belly
 and soon a must pass
 this fertile crahn
 from oak t’ holly

 tek int shape
 and tale
 o’ other folks fires
 on yon hills
 as tha would pattern
 stars make
 int neet sky wi art clards
 an scry what’s t’come

 an sup elder wine
 an et this bread
 of yon fields
 grahnd thru yon stones
 into fire
 into r gobs
 an bellies

 an leet a candle
 a midneet
 aside this bowl
 a rain watta
 t’ catch moon n
 r face n hands
 in it

via for Phone

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