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.

©2016 dedhedpoet


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