Tuesday, June 21, 2016

the Sun and I both pause

Summer Solstice ‘16

deep in this heavily-treed valley,
finally the Sun climbs high enough
to green flame the tops of the trees,
and for the first beams to slip between hungry leaves
and find my eyes, they pierce,
while the forest around me is still cool from the night
and rhododendron blossoms clump full and draw pollinators,
spent blossoms jewel a dark green mossy rock before me,

no other day will allow the Sun to be so far to the North,
and what it sees today will softly, slowly change even tomorrow,

at the river swimming hole
the water is low and clear, the sun bright,
I can watch the trout
hold their place in the current,
letting time slip past them
in the hope of food coming along with it,
I dip into the water and then dive from the smooth gray rock,

today I’ve piddled and relaxed
as if at the top of a mountain,
the frenzy of the few days before
like the last pull up the high trail,

the Sun pauses and I pause,
the longest day of the year softly closes,

and the full Moon still celebrates the light.

by Henry H. Walker
June 20, ’16

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