This is, sadly, my last poem working with the lovely eighteenth-century Welsh poet Ann Griffiths. This one is based on the beautifully simple “His left hand, in heat of noonday”, translated here by H.A. Hodges, who has translated a number of Griffiths’ poems and hymns into English. In my own poem I have worked with an image that a close friend had today while praying for me. It was a very powerful image and seemed to fit perfectly with Griffiths’ poem, so I am sharing it with you all today. God bless you all as you read it. In His field, amidst the flowers (After Ann Griffiths’ “His left hand, in heat of noonday”) In His field, amidst the flowers, While He weaves these petal chains, Here I sit, His grass around me, As He sings rejoicing strains: God Himself, the prince of ages, Singing for His broken child. Listen, earth, and listen, angels: Hear His song in love’s wide field.