Summer-thyme

Hail to the fairy folk
keepers of this land,
I see the little circle ...
that marks your merry band

Midsummer marches!

and we all know what this means,

veils between are lifting

unpicking stitching at the seams
 

Thyme, wild thyme and more time

awakens in the woods,

abundant, with natural purity

to do it’s healing good
 

Fields are tall with promise

waving green with corn,

so strip away your workaday

get your glad rags warm
 

Then hear a wild whisper

something primal is near,

it’s the turn of the wheel

the creaking you hear
 

Heave a big sigh

and dance for the sun,

one cycle ending

another begun