The Oaten Bride(5) Poem by David McLansky

The liquid spells of the earth
Are chanted in the dark with mirth
Naked the jagged stone
In the moonlight on the loam
The dancers, silver, sparking wet
Make the shadows pirouette;
Leaping, stamping, joy-inspired
They circle round the burning fires;
AndAnd though the night is cold with mist
They spin with heat and leap and twist,
Glistening wet with perspiration,
Possessed by songs of celebration;
For by this rite of sacrifice,
The village pays the Oat God's price.

The Maiden decked in purple flowers
Awaits the Oat God's swelling power;
For when the shadow of the moon
Cast by Knife-Rockin the gloom
Does touch the polished grinding stone:
All will know the time is sjown
To pierce her with the Oaaar Stalk knife
Yo bring theplant od back to life.

The singing mounts in celebration
The Maiden shows no hesitation;
Honored, feted, filled with pride
Sacred lays the Oat God's bride;
A Goddess in the blowing mist
An oat stalk rope bound her wrists.