Song fills the air as children come out to dance around the May pole. The dark days pass and fade in our memory. As these are precious days. But spring comes with a warm promise, A promise of summer. We never mourn the passing of spring, Instead, we begin a celebration.
Summer is an extraordinary time.
The days are long and bright and the nights are barely a whisper. When the midday sun seems harsh, we rarely hold a grudge. We simply borrow a bit of night from the nearest tree, Or borrow a bit of rain from the nearest sprinkler. In summer children run and jump and skip and grow. For these are precious days.