Ode to the Summer Solstice
A Poem by Corrin Meise-Munns
It has been a long time since December.
When we last met,
the sun was on its way to its lowest point
and drifting off into a wintry sleep.
The days were short, the nights long —
we traded and swapped roots and the hard fruit from autumn vines,
jars of preserved summer berries and cans of fermented spring flora.
Dreaming of summers past and of springs to come,
we ate well, and slept,
waiting for the sun.
Now we are on the other side,
and the days are growing longer. Already
the sunlight lingers through the evening and into the night; already
we are approaching the sun at its zenith.
Our gardens are bursting with new life.
We’ve eaten our fill of rhubarb and asparagus,
are eagerly awaiting strawberry season —
not to mention the first:
We are dusting off our canning pots
and pulling out our salad spinners.
Harvest season has begun.