Summer Solstice

An odd collection,
Of sorts
Recollections too,
Of sorts
Not morose, just odd
People and thoughts,
Paradoxes both.

In death a greater vitality
Than an embalmed living
And now
At Dawn
With astronomical arrogance
We head for the solstice place
And solace too.

Across a highway
Of moon crushed shell, desiccated frond,
Tarry tumbleweed and whittling willow
Rising higher and higher
To stumble over bittern
Bitter memories
To wait and wait.

While far below, at the edge
Champagne froth; and in the moment
A sea-anointed, wind-blessed
Alignment
Of bramble buckled
Appeasement
To the tottering island Gods.

And cloud smothers the light;
No solstice here
No solace here
Just here.
Fish are jumpin’
’nd the cotton is high…

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