Mauve dress, green eyes,
a flash of blue
where a kingfisher flies;
a Dark Green Fritillary glides through space.
Everything, it seems, has its place.
Horses trampling in the mud
tingling the young riders’ blood.
Unpeopled Crowan, untrodden grass,
a faint stirring of ghosts as the Visitors pass.
Lady Tremayne sits to wait
the careful unfolding of her fate,
letting the hot sun ease her bones.
A young girl peers from behind her face
who will take her place
with the Standing Stones.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Mauve Dress by Brian Taylor )
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