Beltane is the same this year
thrust high high in the sky
Beltane slips into the bark
dark buds burst forth and out and up
Beltane has a lusty flowerbed
showered on by teasing April's fool
Beltane pools the sun on spools
weaving a tapestry of light
right on the wall she called and
placed her windy fingers on his heart
and strummed a zephyr to his chin a
grin blew to his face and struck a chord
Beltane's bark has the sweetest bite the
night ripe kite time drawing nigh
Beltane's sky takes strident strides
rides the crest of the crust's great curve
swerves a cloud around the cotton wisp
whispers with a lisp and smiles wide
Beltane sidles to the moon maroon petunias
drape her blades of shouldered flesh fresh
napes and milky neck to kiss the maypole
orbit sphere and stare into the future
into the eyes of June
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