Album 6 – Diana on the Berkshire Do

This one has colour depicting bright sun
and the wind, whose hand strokes
the distant fields to a paler green
and tosses her hair in a hurly-burly blur
of curls that she tries in vain to tame.
In the distance the cushion of the downs
roll away under clouds that mimic the swell
of long dead sea creatures beneath her feet.
Almost hidden by her shadow and the grass,
a red dog, tongue lolling, eyes alert,
looks out at unseen intrigues only he
can scent. I know this girl, this dog, this place,
can hear the curlew above the rustle and bluster.
It is a remembrance stirred by image.