The Earth today tilts one way, then another. And yes, though all things change, this night again will watch its fireflies, then go in to a bed with sheets, to lights, a beloved. To running water cold and hot. Take nothing for granted, you who were also opulent, a stung cosmos. Birds sang, frogs sang, their sufficient unto. The late-night rain-bringing thunder. And if days grew ordinarily shorter, the dark's mirror lengthened, and one's gain was not the other lessened.
Poetry by Jane Hirshfield, “Solstice”, from The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace and Renewal, Edited by James Crews