Night in Day
by Joseph Stroud
The night never wants to end, to give itself over
to light. So it traps itself in things: obsidian, crows.
Even on summer solstice, the day of light's great
triumph, where fields of sunflowers guzzle in the sun--
we break open the watermelon and spit out
black seeds, bits of night glistening on the grass.
I found this poem at American Life in Poetry: Column 220.
We're still not quite to the Summer Solstice (closer than last week) but there's something about the light this year, the lengthening of the days, the amazement that 9:00 pm can feel like 7:00 pm (and if it were cold, it could be 5:00 pm!!) that has grabbed me and made me pay attention.
The round up this week is at Critique de Mr. Chompchomp.