Harvest Dance

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Spirit Space

This piece of historical fiction takes place in a period before the Middle Ages, it is set in Briton of the time.

'COME ROUND FAIR SEASON IN TIME COMPLETE...ALL BOUNTY THAT WILL BE TO KEEP... OUR VILLAGE WHOLE AND SOUND TO DANCE AGAIN...BEFORE FIRST WINTERS SNOW IS FOUND...'

With the song playing in his head, the young man made his way upon the well worn path that would take him to the creek.

Swinging his bucket to and fro as he went along, he moved in a way that was more of a jig than any of walking step, his glad mood reflecting the late November afternoon. The warm sun balanced perfectly with the cooling breeze as they touched his face, the sense of them bringing a smile to him.

He glanced about at the meadow and forest as he met them on either side of his path. The Elms and Alders let loose of the last of their red and golden and they fluttered down to the ground in a brillant dance of their own.

Five day had passed since the harvest had been gathered from the fertile rows sown in the early days of Spring. Two day ago the talley was made of the onion and potato, the hearty staple crop that woulds sustain the several village families through the harsh winter months.

Young and old would work the soil to till and plant together. It was the common wealth to be shared among them after harvest, no matter the wind or weather. It was a great and grand time for all, one of celebration.

Carrying his full bucket home the young man was well and happy. It was a happiness born of the clear spring water, the giving fields and the Harvest Dance, to be held that very night within the Lodge, the place of village meeting.

It was there that tunes were brought forth from pipe and drum, and reels to celebrate would begin, those passed down through generations.

Stopping before the threshold of his simple home the young man paused to gaze west. He watched in silence as the rays of the setting sun fell upon the lodge, making it alive and setting it apart.

For a moment he thought of the one who might take his hand when he would ask, and the music would guide them as he led her to the floor; that space of life in motion met in the dance of harmony meant for the two of them, one to continue into the years that would follow.

Smiling again he opened the door, keeping a dream of welcoming Winters tomorrow, one that would forever take his village into another Summers day. 


Submitted: November 18, 2020

© Copyright 2021 LE. Berry. All rights reserved.

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