Dancing at Lughnasa

corn husk doll

I was watching Dancing at Lughnasa

while the Lughnasadh fires raged outside.

Woten’s-day turn to Frigg-day,

with no Thor’s-day in between.

Midnight blue faded to northern lights

and back again

without so much as a flinch.

The harvest came in while I ate a twinkie

so I pinched a layer of fat.

Surely – surely !– I am asleep.

Surely no one would be a spectator

to their own life.

Surely we would all be dancing at Lughnasadh

given the choice.

lapiz labradorite green man in willow

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