Mid-summer.
Plenty of daylight,
Plenty of time,
The sun has captured the top of the sky.
We crest the day with exuberance.
Follow the unpredictable and sudden licks of spontaneity.
Midsummer's fires take us in.
Surges of heat,
Surges of pleasure,
Everything good that happens today happens between the sun and the moon.
And the Earth's warm body.
We hand ourselves over to the juice.
Place a punnet of hand-picked strawberries on the garden table to warm.
Pick big heads of elderflower in bloom to flavour a jug of iced water.
Reach your hands into High Summer's wild heather honeypot of delight.
And let it ooze between our fingers.
In the hedgerows,
Wild honeysuckle is entwining itself lasciviously through dog roses.
Bees are pushing their whole bodies into the folds of petals,
Overlapping petals,
To reach the nectar.
Along the unruly roadsides,
Ox-eyed daisies,
Meadow-sweet and grasses at thigh-height.
Of following whatever trajectory they like.
To get at the light.
Cowled in their verdant smells,
Our eyes are drawn to the hilltops.
And skies beyond.
The hot effort of walking up to Midsomer's Summit gives us an endorphin high.
The sweat we give to the mountain gives us the mountain's heart.
A vista.
And a look back over how much distance we've managed to cover in the year so far.
When a cloud like the shadowy bird of midwinter,
Unexpectedly passes over.
Reminds us of the bigger picture.
The dark side of the sun.
Countries on fire,
Lands parched,
Millions of people displaced.
Pleasure dependent on what country we belong to.
If any.
We make our way back down the hillside more reflectively.
Choose what actions will draw us up to our full height.
On magical midsummer night we follow the eldritch songlight into the woods.
With friends and community.
Build a fire to charge up our potency.
Weave garlands of wishes and new intentions with wild flowers and herbs.
Float them down river,
Watched over by the sea.
