For Whitsuntide
we're bound
and nature's harp
is strummed, resounds
aloof, I gaze
as wayward rays
carve their lines,
a solar clock
exacts one hour
at a time
from our lives, subtracts
and all is here,
and all is open
shields are down
but still, the gate
is hard to find
unseen but massive
deaf and dumb,
alone I beat
this silent drum
and you're the portal,
nameless grace
may lift the veils
for this mortal