The Bard Beneath the Tree

Come Friends, from all the quarters come From mountain and from sea And harken to the ancient drum That beats at Avebury The wren that sings, the bees that hum The bard beneath the tree Come Fellows, from the east and west In all your finery In cloaks and crowns of oak leaves dressed In friendliness to see The folk most beautiful and blessed Who come to Avebury Come Maidens, from the northern towns All giggling with glee From villages across the downs And south of Salisbury With roses woven in your crowns To dance at Avebury Come Wizards wise and Witches, bring Your highest mystery Your kindness and imagining The best that we can be And we shall from one spell sheet sing For love of Avebury Come Fools and Poets, with your words And choose them carefully Some words are but for beasts and birds And Gods use poetry No calumny or throwing turds (I duck!) at Avebury Come Ancestors, who would observe The way your legacy Is in the safest hands to serve That which will come to be For purposes beyond the curve Of earth and Avebury Come Little Children, laugh and play Come running wild and free Around and round the stones today And home in time for tea For nothing can forever stay At lovely Avebury Come Gods and Goddesses, as one As one, and two and three As all the stars and moon and sun Of myth and history And all the energies that run Around this Avebury Come Butterflies, in colours bright And flowers for the bee Come larks that fly the summer light And fluffy clouds that flee The longest day and shortest night Today at Avebury Come Lovers old, and Lovers young To lie beneath the tree And drown in honey and be stung By love as by a bee For all the sweetest songs are sung By love at Avebury Come Minstrels, and the Bards of Old Who did, from memory Tell all the tales that must be told Of sacred king and tree And alchemy, aye, there’s the gold And truth of Avebury Come, Ending of my endless rhyme Come walk away with me All poets become fools in time But oh, the things we see The silly, secret, and sublime At sacred Avebury Come, All of Us, together come (‘Together come!’ Hee, hee!) And harken to the ancient drum That beats at Avebury The wren that sings, the bees that hum The bard beneath the tree © Gail Foster 16th June 2023