The old craft taught of sacrifice,
a basket case when filmed as cult,
the wicker market, burning man,
an island where the school’s spell can’t.
They weaved their magic for young minds,
corrupted life once puritan,
with song and dance of masque ball trance,
they set aflame primitive urge.
The Greenman where policeman lodged,
as children skip the maypole round,
an offering from pagan Celts,
seduced by seeing, black and white.
So in their lore the law was burnt
that crops might fruit through Christian blood;
the story’s status, classical,
with dying scene of setting sun.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, UK, from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces curated and published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion. He has, like so many, been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com