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Midsummer (Part 1) Midsummer has no name: Beauty cannot be boxed Roaming free and wild Where it chooses it stops. A blackbird in a tree A bumble-bee With beauty bold Searching shady arbours for a nest Disturbing hawthorn-blossom Making petal volleys: Newly-laid, pink and Fragile on the soil. Frailty that will tomorrow brown and wither. Can beauty be another? And must I wait another year For them to come again Through winter, snow and rain? One night is all they stay And the bee I'll not see again. Midsummer (Part 2) Lanterns in the trees Casting out their light Marking out their territories Before the end of night. Breathe in deeply: Night is nearly over. Yet the longest of them all Have I borne in Midsummer When Nature opens up her buds And I have yet to flower. by Daniel Cross 
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