A writers workshop in the golden hour, in Glastonbury

A writers workshop in the golden hour, in Glastonbury

I sit and write

As the Abbey House glows, 

Gilded by the evening sun.

At first we sat beneath an ornate gold ceiling

In a room graced by nobles past,

We sat on once soft furnishings, 

On fabrics frayed, upholstery sagging, 

Simply by the act of years of sitting.

Pausing, then, was a luxury, reserved only for the rich, 

So I sit and ponder my place...

        I am here,

        Graced by golden light and your presence,

        Deserving of time and space, simply to be.

I walked in mindful abundance just now,

Through pearls of light, dancing,

Like sensory swathes of silk, soft light soothing,

The sun setting along the arc of each grass-seed, igniting me,

As nature reclaimed the ruins from me.

I walked the line between gold past, gold present, and gold future,

The pathway seemingly clearer now,

As I realised -

         I am here,

         Graced by golden light and your presence, 

         Deserving of time and space, simply to be.

Time shifts and we are here again

By the sunset glow of the Abbey House wall,

Returning to our senses, we brush through the heady scent of a lavender-lined path,

Bringing pure calm into the consciousness of our being, 

After the intensity of the light.

And I realise -

You are Nature, awe-inspiring Nature,

Second-class to no-one -

but the Sun?; 

Heat and drought

Are here, right now, returning all life to it's purest form,

The humble seed,

In record time this Summer.

I see you Nature, feel you, hear you, 

This is our last golden hour on Earth,

We no longer have the luxury

To sit and sag under an ornate gold ceiling, 

But poetry has the power to sow your seed

In those with fertile minds.

So realise -

         We are here to learn and to grow,

         Graced by golden light and your presence,

         As deserving as any person afore present,

         To have time and space simply to be.

A Wensley 

9.07.2025