I wrote this as a bit of spoken word fluff recited over the Abbotts Bromley Horn Dance melody, performed at the one and only concert ever given by the Celtic quartet Epona which I was a member of a few years ago. We did an early December concert with songs connecting Samhain to Yule. It was very well-received and a friend made a recording of it (a rough one but it's good to have it). We performed songs in Irish, Scots Gaelic, Breton, Cornish, Welsh and English.

Anyway I had forgotten about this piece and jotted it down as I listened. It goes well with this image I found the other day, so why not? It is not really a poem but I like its scenario and may try to turn it into one this Yule season.


The Stag at Solstice

Antlers shattering the new moonlight
He stamps and snorts and sniffs out the night's possibilities.
Stopped on the ancient path leading into deep green darkness
He asks the frozen wind "Which way now?"
The warmth of the herd, of the cold of the spear?
At the forest's edge he stands, paused between life and death,
and lifts his ight horned head
and looks upon the moon's empty face
and asks her silently "Which way now?"