“Yr oedd yr heliwr distaw yn bwrw ei rwyd amdanom”

(Waldo Williams)

Those fields – I’ve walked across them - they are

Extraordinary fields, though inaccessible to the seeker

After transcendence this is no loss for the page

Holds them in view and they extend into the margins

Between field hedges and the nets of the Hunter

In many places and times where time

Is arrested and held captive by a tether

Of stillness long enough to feel chastened by silence.

Sunlight touches a wall on a summer afternoon,

Shadows enclose a moment which passes from forever

To forever: Such blessings are felt to be precious.

But hearing beyond them voices calling in a common

Tongue of work and worship echoing through centuries,

And knowing that they witness this moment

When all is still,                  

                                    so that being alone

Is to be with them, resonates beyond solitude.

Voices heard in the echoes of whistling lapwings

Tremble to life over empty meadows;  each hand,

Each tongue unique in the passing of time yet fused

In a moment making one of many things.