Mauve Dress Poem by Brian Taylor

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.