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.