Just me and Charlie for the morning of Summer Solstice walk. It's a long one and we cross the wide meadow under blue sky, white clouds.
Tonight, I go looking for solstice poems and find this gem - a young - so young! Sharon Olds reading her poem, "Summer Solstice, New York City." It's a bare bones reading in terms of production values. But I could listen to her read, with so much tender authority, all night.