tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5682738581019360100.post-3236006364455619322008-06-21T08:24:00.004-04:002008-06-21T08:33:18.426-04:002008-06-21T08:33:18.426-04:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GSS_fGKzVCk/SFzz8aKYseI/AAAAAAAABGo/Q3F6TeTQwuY/s1600-h/fabric_and_mask_by_smallfilms.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_GSS_fGKzVCk/SFzz8aKYseI/AAAAAAAABGo/Q3F6TeTQwuY/s400/fabric_and_mask_by_smallfilms.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214310687728775650" /></a><br /><br />Summer Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. The longest day. I have been unable to sleep. Midsummer, it is called, as in Shakespeare’s play. Perhaps old Puck, the pagan trickster, has been about. Why else should I wake each night, my head filled with images. Fairies and Sprites and Hobgoblins. There is a tricky chthonic frivolity associated with Midsummer, the time betwixt planting and harvesting. June’s full moon, I just read, is also called the Honey Moon. I prefer that. <br /><br />I am being called out tonight. What mischief there lie? I shall take Puck’s apology to the audience in the play’s last scene as my own. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">If we shadows have offended,_Think but this, and all is mended,_That you have but slumber'd here_While these visions did appear._And this weak and idle theme,_No more yielding but a dream,_Gentles, do not reprehend:_if you pardon, we will mend:_And, as I am an honest Puck,_If we have unearned luck_Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,_We will make amends ere long;_Else the Puck a liar call;_So, good night unto you all._Give me your hands, if we be friends,_And Robin shall restore amends.</span><br />(Act v. Scene i.)cafe selavyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15326753057795689263noreply@blogger.com4