I slipped out to the lake again Tuesday evening. I have been reveling in the long evenings leading up to the solstice, and I stayed until last light. The Hex hatch has been spectacular. The lake has been alive. It has been a joy to be there, just one more tiny dancer taking his place in the great, swirling dance of life. How can I describe it? I will resort to the words of William Blake in his poem "Laughing Song":
When the green woods laugh, with the voice of joyAnd the dimpling stream runs laughing by,
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it.
When the meadows laugh with lively green
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,
When Mary and Susan and Emily,
With their sweet round mouths sing Ha, Ha, He.
When the painted birds laugh in the shade
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread
Come live & be merry and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of Ha, Ha, He.