St. John’s 2005

There is a field of Golden shadows

where the Soul hovers over the soul,

and the oblique Sun

is fixed all day

in late-afternoon angles.

This is no-time,

Dreamtime,

Chronos.

One day,

one day only of my year

may I drop into this place

unnoticed by any and all.

And as a traveler would

in a completely foreign land,

I lose track of the passage of time,

until at day’s end,

while my body tells a different story,

my Mind,

my Heart,

my Soul

having come back to where I live,

wonder where the hours fled,

indeed, stand confused

but strangely well fed.

Pat Warner gathering St. John's Wort