The Long Day

In the days before the longest day one wakes early, at four thirty or five.  Yet the sun is already awake and the lawns glitter.  The desire to sleep is overtaken by the need to squeeze the most from the long time of year.  The garden is silent.  Up in the crows’ nest a crow gurgles awake.  A silent cat may pass, threading feet through the borage.  With doors and windows open, bumble bees visit and are guided gently out again.  Frankincense is burnt in the morning breeze, scenting the house.  Coffee, the day, and a drive out, before others venture there.  The Downs sit in the sunshine.  Quietly; and the one eyed white horse looks out, across the Cuckemere.  Make the most of the long day.