The days are ever renewed by small degrees and we shall say they
are but the seasons. Short passages of changing wonder wrought by the writ of a
cosmic science. And yet, this is indeed a glorious globe, a glittering orb of
enchantment laid to full recline by winters crushing touch that readies to rise
from her slumber. And marvel of this obliquity of a green-blue silk wrapping a
starry throat. The soft rise and fall of this graceful body with her daily imperceptible
changes. And is it not a wondrous thing that sated and coldly exhausted from her
resting passions the softer, longer, light of a new spring, shall come.
Here's a graphic of the solstices. I made it - so a guide only.
