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
Copyright ©
Gail Foster
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