The sun passes another milestone. Litha’s night sabbath is near. A new day has come, long as life itself. May it be filled with only joyful events.
Let it be light and pleasant. May the sun rise high above the horizon on this day, leaving no room for darkness.
Litha’s fires are burning, keeping the light of the summer sun. Vivid, unbearably bright and hot. We will carry this light within ourselves through the darkest holidays of the year.
In days, when the sun will fall to the bottom of a deep well, die somewhere in the depths, and then be reborn again. We will remember this light on the day of distant Yule, on the day of the still cold, newly born sun.
A riot of colors. The wind shakes the grass color on the hands. The stream lies like a cold snake in the shade of a spruce forest. Pines smell bitter and sweet. The bees move lazily from flower to flower.
Honey Litha, hot Litha. A festival of a thousand herbs, a blessed summer time for all. This is not the time to go into darkness. Time to live.