The Summer Solstice

an journal entry

           It is midsummer. The summer solstice. Litha. It is warm. It is still fairly  
          early. There is a smell of honey in the air. The sun hot on my shoulders. My 
         cheeks. I do not know where that mellow scent of honey is coming from. I 
         wonder if any one else can smell it. The sky is a clear blue. I think I’d like to 
        see the sea but I fear everyone will go there. I think mama and I are going in 
        the evening. It is the summers solstice. Litha. I think of the darkness of winter.
       How the sun shone so cold, and now his kisses burn my back, and am I wrong 
        to rather have his kisses that burn than none at all. Kiss me. Burn me. Promise 
        to always return to me. Occasionally, there is a light breeze. The birds sing. 
        Melodic. Do they keep a calendar and know it is Litha? The summer solstice. I 
       think of winter and how I thought summer would never come, mourned it like a
       mother at a crucifixion, but now I bathe in it. I am rich in it. Kiss me, 
        summer, make me yours. Tempt me and take me. My skin is already rich in you.
        I’’m scared soon you will burn me but I will always blame myself, my love, my 
      affair. The sun flowers have bloomed. The fig tree is abundant in leaves. I stretch
       my legs in the sun and I wish to seduce the sun, if only once. I have a freckle just
       above my knee and one to the right higher up, and I want this to be where the 
       sun kisses me the most. kiss me tenderly above my knee. 
       It’s warm. The morning is still. I think I’ll rub myself thyme and rosemary, eat 
       enough spoonfuls of honey so you can smell it. Kiss me sun. Here we could 
       start our love affair. maybe our love, finish the game we’ve been playing since winter. 

three hag stones I found at the beach, at sunset, mourning what might have been.

Dearly, Beatrice.