Late spring and a green, bright Dorset day.
An unknown path through woods bursting with blossom and leaf.
Hawthorn and ash, tree ivy climbing.
Fields on a manicured farm stop dead
At lines of trees.
With a high hill fort behind.
Red copper beech unfurls young leaves,
Among the lime green oaks
Where the hill ascends.
White Park cattle graze by the gate.........
...and watch us climbing.
Up a steep path we walk, then rest,
Eyes on the far horizon.
Shimmer of blue and yellow flowers beside our feet.
Milkwort, sapphire blue, and scented thyme.
Burnet, Yellow rattle, buttercup and cowslip leaf.
Gateways in iron age rampart walls
Show village and farm beneath
Where a solar field harnessing sunlight,
Glitters grey mirrors to the sky.
A high path showing miles of the westward view.
Back across curves and dips of ancient terraced hill,
A track leads down to a wood of oak and one dark yew.
Maybe a meadow saxifrage among the grass?
Out in the north west view, another terraced hill.
Cloud shadow sweeps across folds of sculpted down.
Vale of the White Hart stretches out beneath,
With villages and wide green miles of fertile land and trees.
Striding the high path........
Childe Oakford and its manor far below.
Orchids almost missed, hiding in a rampart ditch below the path.
At last, down the hill again, and
Calm, half-dozing cattle watch us pass.
