Yesterday was, in Sweden, the day after Midsummer.  A day when one is tired from having, almost certainly celebrated the summer solstice with partying and too much food and drink.  We were no exception.  We held our yearly neighbor *** luck in our beautifully decorated boathouse, its lawn all mowed, prepared for games, the accordion well tuned and lovingly played.  
     In my next day fatigue, I sat in the sun,  body exhausted but ideas flowingly showing, I wrote poetry from the sublime to the ridiculous: four in all.  No mean feat.  I'll start with the ridiculous.

    I’d Like To Cut Down Summer Ferns