Middle-Earth

Swathed in mist and fires' smoke,
drums thunder as the last of daylight fades.

Songs of the Ancients drown the whispers
of their women's woolen skirt hems
while the dance builds,

and a moon eclipsed in blood rises
on this summer solstice.

A melodic cauldron is stirred,
with dulcimer strings and fiddler's bow--

the bravado and quickness of their feet
sway bare upon long wooden planks.

Black-winged spirits spin over village roofs,
their calls carrying the hearts and minds
of warriors in the hills,

forging new swords, bathing the blades
in the falls cascading down
toward the rolling emerald valley

where dragons, circling low, anticipate
the feast they know will come tonight.

Starlit eyes stare long at their flight,
yearning, for a journey across the sea
where friends await and darkness is at bay.

And wizards, unaware of night's crawling,
travel swift through ages of magic

to summer nights, when fireworks,
shaped as the shadows of dragons,
are the only sorcery to be seen.