The Dry Month by Margaret Holbrook

The Dry Month

Come cut the wood, ready for Solstice.
Light the bonfires, watch the leaping flame
strengthen our sun at its height.
This is our longest day.
The standing still of the sun.
Litha monath,
when the sea is calm and the breezes gentle,
when Midsummer Eve beckons.
A time of ritual and feasting,
when scattered rose petals conjure
up a lover with the dawn,
when any rose picked at sunrise
will have six months of perfect life.
This is June. Sera monath.


Margaret Holbrook grew up in Cheshire where she still lives. She writes poetry, plays and fiction. Her work has appeared in several anthologies and her poetry has appeared in magazines including Orbis, The Journal and The Dawntreader.

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