An Evening with Mr Williams

Can you hear the Lark Ascending
across the airwaves,
the sleepy southern villages
sipping chablis in the haze?

A hundred thousand listeners
but no one to stop you leaving,
a soft breeze your only witness.

Tonight
be light with your misery,
sweet with your melancholy,
as quiet
as a summer Sunday;
until midnight
the country lanes are ours.

A soft breeze your only witness
as the evening calls a blessing,
tonight will end in whispers.