The Maypole of Life
The dancers weave, their threads are wound;
some gold, some red, some darkest brown.
Their cords (our lives) spun to the sound
of Mother Earth changing her gown.
Some gold, some red, some darkest brown;
the ribbons pull us round and round
as Mother Earth changes her gown.
Fine patterns form, colors compound.
The ribbons pull us round and round
while time keeps counting swiftly down.
Fine patterns form, colors compound;
life's tapestry can then be found.
While time keeps counting swiftly down,
the dancers weave, their threads are wound.
Some gold, some red, some darkest brown,
in Mother Earth's most changing gown.
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