Do not weep when the Sun will seem to be receding soon
Sing to this longest day of the year and its eternal dawn
Sing to the Summer, that vast expanse of blue above green
And to the way that Time slows down at the top of its wheel
Lop-sided with gravity every six months, leaning in now
We turn our face towards or away from such strong light
Sing to its warmth this noon and to the cold bite wading toes feel
In oozing mud and stinking kelp before finding smooth pebbles
Sing of rock broken to stone and tumbled into shining gems
Awaiting those who roam the shores hunting for treasure
Sing of purple-shelled mussels and spiral-ridged clam domes
A briny stew for low-country lovers of chowder
Or broken open on driftwood and dark piers
A repast for grey gulls or fisher hawks, wheeling
And circling, loudly calling to us, like our children
At the edge of the earth, while we lie on heated sand
Breathing in the soft salt air and sharpness of bare skin
Sing to our children, crying for us to come down, come down
Come down to the beckoning breakers and get in, get in
Sing before they swim away to their long-legged futures
~ Lynn Carrigan
