I went out for a ride late yesterday to celebrate the longest day of the year. The countryside was so beautiful that I didn’t even try to write anything, knowing I couldn’t possibly beat Nature at her own game. But once again, Shakespeare came to the rescue, so here’s my own, very humble contribution to the Midsummer literary canon.
After the long haul out to the solstice
The year begins its steady slide
Back down into the dark.
But on Midsummer’s Day Plus One
I cannot turn my mind to Winter
With its frosts, sodden ground
And the dusk closing in at three:
The hay lies in the fields yet,
The swifts cut crescents in cobalt skies
And the evenings are heavy
With honeysuckle, elderflower
And all Titania’s bower.
While Puck goes smiling about his mischief
And Oberon sits
Enthroned beneath the hedge
Toasting Summer in golden ale.