The Golden Day

Every afternoon he sits having honey cakes and melon The sound of the wind in the high grass over his left shoulder An amber sun leans down upon his head He reads of Psalms and stares up for a moments reflection Picturing himself a young king David full of radiance and promise A chosen path before him lay-wait Being known as an astute lad fitting the forms of a upper country life He savors his surroundings cool green pools, lush fields the great oak down by the ruins This time and landscape will be him forever.