All: What time is it....?
Archdruid: I've been up for hours. You know the sun - is it on the horizon? Have you captured the fragile moment - that tender first limb of the sun climbing above the Amazon Warehouse? Have you gasped at the moment when the sun makes his most northerly appearance of the year? Have you my right elbow...
|Not an accurate representation of Husborne Crawley this morning|
All: Doesn't matter. It's raining.
Archdruid: But it's the first tender rain of the Solstice morning! A time when heaven has poured out its benison on the grateful, thirsty earth.
All: Doesn't need to. Ground's saturated. Drought's over. We're going back to bed.
The Piper at the Gates of Dawn approaches, accompanied by Morris Dancers. Stones may be thrown and curses spoken.