Sarah Boucher Edwards

The earth awakens in a rush of green
blossoms spilling their secrets to the morning sun.
Birdsong dances through the trees,
and the air is thick with promise.

Beltane arrives on soft feet, 
wrapped in petals and firelight.
It whispers: step into the circle, 
feel the pulse of life beneath your skin.

Fires blaze to honour the sun’s ascent,
flames leaping like spirits set free.
Through fire and smoke we pass, 
leaving behind what no longer blooms.

The dew at dawn kisses bare feet, 
blessing the soul with wild joy.
Garlands of flowers crown the day, 
while hearts remember their own vitality.

Beltane is a mirror, 
showing the fertile garden of the soul.
Which dreams will you water now? 
Which passions will you let grow untamed?

As twilight falls, 
we dance between worlds,
held by the turning wheel of the year,
rooted in love, 
rising towards light.