51 responses to “Slow dance with summer”

1. A joyous and delightful poem

   • Midsummer should be happy

     • Yes, it is midwinter here. It is also happy because we are heading back towards summer.

2. This is gorgeously rendered, Bjorn! I resonate with; “it’s a time of endless dusks almost seamlessly meeting dawn.” ❤️❤️

   • We have so much daylight and almost no night at this time of year

     • The almost no night of summer is your trade-off for your almost no day of winter. Do you think it’s a fair trade? Right now it is 🙂

     • Now it feels good

3. A delightful slow dance with summer, Björn! I love all the birdsong, and the thought of ‘dancing barefoot in the grass’.

   • I might try it tomorrow evening.

4. Bjorn, a delicious poem with a wonderful painting. Would like to step into either.

   • Thank you

     • You are welcome.

5. Wonderful.

   • Thank you

6. Fine midsummer work, Bjorn. And thanks for hosting the OLN!

   • My pleasure to host….

7. “slow dancing with summer”

   Fitting, for the feeling as summer slips away.

   • May the dance be slow.

8. Delightful and merry, like the way summer feels! Well done! 🫶

   • It is and the time of more or less endless daylight is wonderful

9. I love “it’s a time of endless dusks”

   It does feel like it’s already passing so quickly, so your poem is a good reminder to savour it.

   • Dusks here should be seen as it never gets really dark

10. You brought me back to the Northern Hemisphere with this – light and rhythm – compared to myself heading toward winter solstice!

    • Oh yes I can understand that

11. oooh, I absolutely love this especially since the solstice is right around the corner.

    I want the strawberries and cream now and the part about falling into arms.

    uhh. What feelings you have arisen in me?

    • Strawberries and cream are just hours away

12. I love birdsong in every poem! Like this. It’s medicine for me. So uplifting and rich with a harvest feeling. A time for every season, indeed.

    • The first harvest of potatoes and strawberries are promises of things to come

13. Sounds delightful to slow dance with summer in your part of the world. Lovely Bjorn.

    • Summer here is a really cool and nice event usually

14. A wonderful poem celebrating the joy of dancing barefoot and and to get drunk on strawberries and cream 🤤and I love that last line

    • I will get out for a slow dance later today

15. Lovely poem Bjorn

    • Thank you

      • You’re most welcome

16. I, too, loved the seamlessly joined dusks and dawns..

    • Going far enough to the north this is what happens.

      • I’ve never visited Scandinavia..I don’t know why. It certainly gets good reviews from those who have and it was the first place my mother visited after she decided to follow in the footsteps of her roving daughter and to travel abroad.

17. “seamlessly joined dusks and dawns”

    When we lived in Ireland, it never quite darkened the horizon but the light glow just moved around from west to east…

    Lovely Björn…

    • It is exactly like that… even though we do not see any midnight sun here.

18. This was beautiful and atmospheric, like a Neruda poem.

    • Oh. what high price

19. Dancing barefoot in the grass–a summer must!

    • It is still wonderful

20. Closer to the equator, the summer solstice is much more modest event — a summer’s day like many others — very faint traces of any cultural importance unless you’ve taken up with neopaganism. So I’m enriched to read you tell about it!

    • Midsummer is probably our largest holiday in Sweden

21. What a wonderful trip into the painting – it speaks of comfort – happy solstice to you – Jae

    • The painting is so much nostalgia…

22. Beautifully captured, Björn–almost a bittersweet feel, the past midsummers, but still the joy of those still to be experienced.

    Here, mockingbirds sometimes sing all night at this time of year. We don’t have nightingales.

    • I only heard nightingales a few time… they are so very loud actually

23. You can feel the dancing and happiness in this poem.

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