She is Thalia, reads to Gaia, gestures,
rests on rock in sun on the windborne scent
of wild thyme, her shadow caught by Io.
Crags millions of years old
age around a smooth edged cave
carved out by man.
There was once a hawthorn tree called
‘Wishing Tree’ where the children danced
as a hermit bathed in a well to cure
his sore eyes.
A ravine, against the roots of an old
crabapple, holds a huge block of syenite,
said to be a site of rites.
All this she knows as she reads of swifts
swooping and dancing, sees eyes close
romancing and glancing at words
to celebrate the place in which they stay.
It’s midsummer – summer solstice.
Polly Robinson © 2013
This poem celebrates the solstice and was written following the Malvern Hills Midsummer Walk last year. This year we had a fabulous Midnight Moonlight Solstice Walk. In good company, we heard what we think were probably tawny owlets calling, saw glow worms, saw stars and were advised on the constellations by an expert in our midst (!) welcomed the solstice, drank wine, heard poetry and had a lovely time.