Collective poem from Zoem online Poetry Reading group, June 19, 2020

On the morning of the solstice . . .

On the morning of the solstice
days become shorter.

It’s all downhill from here.

On the morning of the solstice
I rose with the sun,
and stayed all the longest day.
Within light-dappled feelings
and moments breathing
from Gaia’s heart.

On the morning of the Solstice
I stood on the peak and looked down
on the bright side of the mountain.
The sun shone on the valley below
as I headed for Autumn.

On the morning of the solstice,
the soul’s instance waned,
for one gravid moment, held hostage
by the rain
until in falling motion
set in sync with with shifting seasons,
the soul realized
that it didn’t
need a

Summer Solstice,
can you possibly awaken, sad?
I think its an oxymoron,
an impossibility with that many sunrays pulsing through,
a hopeful, celebratory morn!

Summer Solstice morning—
I will sup on morning light,
forget the humans fighting
and sing a song about love.

It was the morning of the solstice.
It was only eight a.m.,
and it was already the longest,
most scorching sultry day in my memory,
the only reprieve is that tomorrow
It will be hot but it will be shorter this day.

Solstice morning—
I awaken satiated with poems
from my tribal gathering the night before,

~by Zoem Poets