Have you ever stood in the April wood
and called the new year in?
While the phantoms of three thousand years fly
as the dead leaves spin?
There's a snap in the grass behind your feet
and a tap upon your shoulder.
And the thin wind crawls along your neck ---
it's just the old gods getting older.
And the kestral drops like a fall of shot and
the red cloud hanging high ---
come --- a Beltane.
Have you ever loved a lover of the old elastic truth?
And doted on the daughter in the ministry of youth?
Thrust your head...
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