Our patron star kisses us.

This new poem came to me by way of the website Poets.org, and their daily e-mail “Poem-P1000456crpa-Day.” But for it I might have forgotten that tomorrow is the summer solstice – obviously I haven’t been following my plan of keeping up with the moon and stars, etc.

I love the poet’s evocation of a warm summer’s day, and the sort of experience she describes, of spending the whole day outdoors, lolling by a pond and not even going home until night — even though it hasn’t often been my own.

P1000458crpWhen I was young we lived where we could not start this relaxed lingering until the evening turned the heat from scorching to comfortable. Now where I live with coastal and river influence, it’s rare to have a day in summer without chilly fog on one or both ends.

But today the sun shined as soon as it was up. No fog! And when I went outdoors in the morning I didn’t need a sweater. I was caressed by the earth’s atmosphere.P1000449crp

Soldier came over for a few hours to help me clean up and move things around the yard, to prepare for the huge demolition project that is happening soon. Yes, the concrete pool will be broken up and the hole filled with good ol’ dirt. The large utility yard will also have its crumbling cement layer scraped off so that I can make it more useful and beautiful.

So…we had to move all the things one keeps in such a yard, or near the pool, to other places; Soldier sawed old stakes into kindling, and we piled it elsewhere. We moved potted plants, bricks, cinderblocks, and steppingstones; a bench swing, landscape rocks I’ve brought down from the Sierras over the decades, clay pots, tarps, buckets…and dumped out a barrel of water that had been saved since Y2K.

Next week a boy I kP1000439now will help me move all my firewood, and then I’ll be ready to set a date for the heavy work to begin. I’m starting to use the pool water on my plants; the patio is getting crowded, and not with humans.

It was a very satisfying way to spend a few hours on this almost-solstice day. Maybe tomorrow I’ll loll about a little as well, and soak up the sweetness of light.


How again today our patron star
whose ancient vista is the long view

turns its wide brightness now and here:
Below, we loll outdoors, sing & make fire.

We build no henge
but after our swim, linger

by the pond. Dapples flicker
pine trunks by the water.

Buzz & hum & wing & song combine.
Light builds a monument to its passing.

Frogs content themselves in bullish chirps,
hoopskirt blossoms

on thimbleberries fall, peeper toads
hop, lazy—

Apex. The throaty world sings ripen.
Our grove slips past the sun’s long kiss.

We dress.
We head home in other starlight.

Our earthly time is sweetening from this.

–Tess Taylor

4 thoughts on “Our patron star kisses us.

  1. I love that word, thimbleberry. I thought she was making it up (as poets so lovely do), but it’s a real word for raspberry or blackberry. I had to giggle that you still had Y2K water saved 🙂 How satisfying it will be to have this mammoth project complete, and have more space for the plants you love! I’m jealous, frankly, of your cool temps and your daily need for sweaters. Oh how I would adore that right now! Our highs in the 90s are wearing me out.


    1. Actually, thimbleberry is a particular Rubus, not one of the many raspberry species, and certainly not a blackberry! It is Rubus parviflorus. Confusing, because there is a raspberry species Rubus parvifolius, which when I read too fast I thought was the same species. You don’t have true thimbleberries growing wild in the East, but I suppose some people might call other berries that locally.

      See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raspberry and

      “Thimbleberry fruits are smaller, flatter, and softer than raspberries, and have many small seeds. Because the fruit is so soft, it does not pack or ship well, so thimbleberries are rarely cultivated commercially.”


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