On the eve of solstice I find
I am unable to stay inside,
My notion to prepare our dinner
At a reasonable time just floats away, and
Though my kitchen is flooded with
Late day light,
It feels like a summons
To wander into a new season
And so I come back outside, and
The light feels like joy
Recalibrating dinner intentions,
Repast can wait
In recall of breathing through
The vesper of these long twilights
On their ways to pink, peach,
And the purple deep, I travel
Far into vast salvation.
