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

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close