This short sweet night is full of stars,
crossing slowly east to west,
the circle of the ancient stones
by dark and moonlight blessed.
The air alive with music now,
soft steps and voices echo.
Through the tender bending trees,
They enter to the clearing.
The circling dancers, as before,
leave traces where their steps fall
on grass in silvered shining dew.
The dark of night is fleeting.
They come to silent rest at dawn
to stand and watch in awe
the line of light rise in the east,
grow swift to sun, uplifting,
to reclaim the turning year
in blazing light and glory.
This day’s the longest in the year,
tomorrows will be shorter.
Each moon passes swiftly.
Then we’ll dance into the dark
retelling the old stories.
We’ll sit beside our winter fires
’til summer comes, repeating
The Dreaming Path 