That sort of day...

 the slow kind, and oh-so-very welcome.

Oh distant thoughts and far-off reverie

Needful of weightless silence to emerge

An open stillness, that soft panoply

Of ordered mind, precipitating surge

For merry as the chatter of delight,

Or congregating people for a feast

Still frequently my thoughts will take their flight

To fairylands of stories, trees and peace

Sometimes when days stream happy by

Though filled to brimming with our things to do

The mind must pause from contemplating why

Or drifting into philosophic blue

But still the aerie of my mind

Is found alone, and will forever be

For out of silence, in unhurried time

Comes that native tongue, sweet poetry

and long sunpatches all day...

'The Dean's Watch'