Summer Solstice 22

 

Summer Solstice ‘22

before the Sun starts to suffuse the air,

a near quarter Moon spotlights high clouds racing southeast,

and then blinds are drawn and the sky is a gray wash,

as if morning doesn’t want to be awakened,

a clean imperative tone from the wind chime

softly brings sounds back into the world,

frogs and insects background the morning,

maybe scurrying squirrels make sounds I can’t quite figure,

shapes slowly emerge to the eye,

the first birds awake and remember their voice,

meditation over, so back into the house,

this day of puttering, arranging and rearranging,

planting Kentucky Wonder pole beans

where the sugar snap peas had just given up the ghost,

more picking in the garden: 

green beans, yellow cherry tomatoes, blueberries,

we discover that the new car we want recedes in possibility,

we realize a Hyundai plug-in hybrid 

is not even sold in North Carolina,

or in any neighboring state,

arcane rules prohibit their sale, save in eleven states,

not where the Old Confederacy was, or the Plains,

or the Bible Belt, are.

many of the most energy-conscious vehicles 

denied to us here in the South,

the dance of Sun and Earth. constant,

the Light rules today,

a day with the shortest Night,

on the TV darkness revealed in a Congressional hearing,

chronicling the actions of those who worship an idol,

all seemingly determined to wreck democracy,

this day is of the Light,

too many of our souls choose the Dark instead.

by Henry H. Walker

June 21, ‘22