The burning of the Wickerman

A Day in May

the scarecrow

for titans

watches the celebrations

from afar

a corner of a field

hemmed in by trees

there will be no escape

the old play

reenacted once more

boasts and battles

life and death

reborn heroes

is this how it must be?

the music

drifts across the houses

drifts across the generations

to Romans, Jutes and an age of iron

carried on the wind

carrying backwards and forwards

thoughts to and from another time

children dance in front of the stage

like licks of flame

joy like fire

bursts from within

it spreads by contagion

to the youths and the women

and finally the old men

the sun sets

and the lot is drawn

no Tullund man today

not that kind of sacrifice

the match, the torch

the white light doubles

and doubles again

the yearning to touch the danger

is so strong

the dance continues

alive the giant

moves

and dies

the straw

like the wishes and dreams

so carefully attached

sent skyward

and blown

to dust

by it's own inferno

the wickerman is gone