Summer Solstice ‘17
my head know that early this morning
the Sun paused at the top of its climb north
and started its retreat to the south,
today, though, the Sun is no point source,
clear and definite,
rather all I know of it is diffused light,
grayness swaths us,
all the way down to the tops of the trees
a gray mist anchors us to the clouds,
a light drizzle drips and drops onto and from the leaves,
irregular abrupt drumbeats on the carport,
the garden beginning to release a bounty,
half the potatoes dug,
some squash and beans picked,
the first cherry tomatoes I let sit on the plants
in hopes of their being even firmer and sweeter,
instead when I picked them yesterday,
too many were too soft, some burst asunder,
the Native American pumpkin ecstatic,
free of weeds, the vines bursting forth in growth,
the blueberries, held back in number by a culling late frost,
give us a cup or two a day of big sweet perfection,
sometimes the Solstice makes a dramatic entrance,
today the Solstice quietly slips in in shades of gray.
by Henry H. Walker
June 22, ’17
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