Hawthorn dance.

Hawthorn and oak sit among stones shaped in the past.
Laid down in rows, circles or piles, now forgotten.
Wild horses now wander these light sacred spaces.

Oblivious to the weight of time, they eat and sleep.
And the trees grow, more short than tall.
Just as they always have.

The liberation of the mind of the ancients.
Led to religion and art and war.
And to the hills and the shaping of megaliths.

The answers lie in the ground, my friend.
The answers lie in the ground.