Summer Solstice Musing

Mid-Summer's Eve. The evening is warm with scarcely a breeze, so warm that a naked dance with the fireflies is not out of reach.

As the sun settles behind the mountains, a cardinal gives the all clear cheer while a dove in the brush by the fence coos goodnight.

It is twilight. Evening tide. Time for gentle souls to fall under the spell of the pixies and fairies who will rise and dance beneath the half-moon. Magic and softness and a promise of newness lies on the air, in the thin, nearly imperceptible twist of the oak leaves as the breathing of nature stirs the air.

Softly now, move softly among the roses and hear the echoes of those who went before. They call to you, those elders, their voices audible only to those who have will to listen. Do you hear them?

It is a time to dream, is it not, on this longest evening of the year? For soon the winter's howl will be close and the fires of man will smell in the air. It is never long away, those times. They come around as surely as the sunrises and sets each day.

Listen now as the owl calls and watch the night fall upon you. The stars twinkle, each light a small beacon crying out to sorrowful souls. The fireflies dance. Go dance, and be free.

**Written on the Summer Solstice**