In Time

Before the smoke of this city sets a fog
that settles and smudges on return,
remember sitting in a pocket of time,
soaking up the sunshine of a country dwelling
when, awoken by a gentle morning,
you ran, dream into dream.

Quiet hours built your days
and looking out over fields of years,
on crop covered hill top you stopped
to watch swallows scribble their stories;
dipping blue ink upon sheets of sky-

in the dusk kissed stillness
your heart listened to the questions
the land demanded of you
and whispered a song of home.