SOLSTICE
Turning to light.
This time of year loons fill the night with laughs
and lovers bloom in beds across the dark.
She reaches out of sleep
settles a slender hand on me.
Hardly any night left to pass.
One gray feather of dawn strokes her pillow.
Solstice morning, thick with loons
this new air full with magnificent laughter.
Appeared in Semaphore, Tangram Press limited edition printed and bound by Jerry Reddan, master printer at Arion Press, San Francisco.


By which I meant perfectly put.
Simply put.