The sun has got its hat on.

 
The scent of daffodils and wild primroses,
a junior school summer of a spring day,
people with dogs
and long coloured skirts,
witches, warlocks and druids,
incense, tarot and magically drawn clouds.
 
Giving the new child a golden rattle,
the wishing well does ringing settle,
how many dreams make a fire of love,
the colour of the moon and the turtle dove.
 
Climbing up the Tor,
a new stone floor,
flowers for those gone by,
no more wonder why.
 
A trip of a day in Glastonbury,
the sun full as it should be,
gone fishing.
 
~