The Solstice Comes

The crickets have come. They sing to us, whispering of autumn, telling us to take in summer's last glory.

Harvest is winding down, the ripened bounty hangs heavy and becomes a feast for the bees.

The hummingbirds have flown, beginning their journey to chase the sun and the blossoms that worship him.

All too soon the nights will speak with winter's voice, crisp in the first chill of evening, gone rough around the edges from too much smoke at the camp fire's warm haven.

And we shall prepare for the resting time, tucked away inside with our books and our tea, dreaming and planning our next adventures, waiting for the crack that signals the thaw.

Solstice time is coming. Prepare.