The Festival of

Lying 'neath the elders
Dreams of faeries dance inside
Their waiting, anxious minds
Waiting for dawn to break
Over the standing stones

Waiting for the Father to rise
So bright in ordained victory
Pushing the draining darkness
Pushing it far from healing light
On this, the longest of all days

The first signs of the morn'
Glow even with the dim horizon
They arise from their repose
They take their respective places
As did their forebears through time
Among the smooth, knowing stones
To witness the Sun's bright victory
As blossoms give way to fruit
Ripening with the Mother
On this the longest of all days

- Dobhran

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