Golden are the fields and golden the bales
As they look down to the church in the wood.
Though there on a hill it’s hidden from view
A visitor will say he knew not where it stood.
‘I’ve heard of wildflowers adorning the way
And silence that’s settled and still
And inside the church one is so overwhelmed
For quietness overpowers the will.
Serenity reigns, time ceases to be
One’s soul gently lays in the balm
Whether in sunbeams or under the clouds
One breathes out one’s fears and inhales the calm.’
‘And there is the church, just a few steps ahead
Mind how you go, ah, the pleasures to me.
At four of the clock the sexton comes by
Take care you have gone, he’s in black with the key.’
Paul Dominic Gray July 2019