Dance our ringlets to the whistling wind

"...since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead,
By paved fountain or by rushy brook,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind."

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight."

- extracts from A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare

It's Midsummer's Day, the Summer Solstice.

Nights start drawing in from this point on, dear reader.

Sob.