She’s dancing to the echo of a Midsummer Night’s dream
frantically, passionate and wild.
She’s growing old, but it can never be seen
in the dance of the summer night’s child.
With long light nights she’s kept up the pace
twirling, teasing, luring us on.
With the last days of June she leaves us with grace
still humming her Midsummer Night’s song.
In a flurry of green, flowers grow in her steps
as she dances across the fields.
So frantic, so lustful, so lively – perhaps
unaware of the power she yields.
Unaware that she is the peak of our year,
the answer to winter’s prayers and hopes.
Unaware that her name is revered far and near,
she knows not of the longing we spoke.
She’s dancing to the dying ember of spring,
as she fills us with love and with lust.
In a rain of petals to the chorus birds sing
she will leave, as we know she must.
Oh, June, before the turning point of our year
stay longer we beg and plead!
It only gets darker when you’re no longer here,
please bring back the light we need.
As Midsummer’s past and we welcome July
we watch as she suddenly withers,
it will soon be over – we know she must die –
but I moan with regret and I shiver.
Again she will dance for us next year
with new scents of flowers and light.
She will return, but I always fear
she’ll be captured by winter’s might.
It’s so far been a miserable summer in Sweden, but the long light nights of June don’t really need sun or warmth to enchant (it would help, though). Our celebration of Midsummer is over, and for me who is addicted to the light, the knowledge that it will now only get darker until December is almost painful. Yes, we will still have sunny days and hopefully warmer weather in July and August, but the days grow ever shorter… I thought perhaps some adoration for June might be in order – very humbly inspired by the biography I’m reading about Swedish Master Poet Gustaf Fröding.
A Glass of Bubbly 