Purple Field.

Lived in England. I remember a purple field of fleeting beauty.

Graduated Engineer, England sent, Rented in Kent, New Ash Green housing Development innovative boxes, Soulless boxes.

Time of coming to terms heritage and family, Links with past broken at last, New perspectives, Immersed in arts ballet and opera, Aussie nurses and Covent garden, Opened eyes, Opened eyes.

City boy, New to Kent, Farms and open fields, Hedge rows copses and woods, Wonders to see, Explored in walks lifelong passion, Stout boots tweed jacket tartan scarf walking pole, Out the door.

One day, Different path, Enjoying myself trees and fields, Tripped on stump, Standing up brushing trousers massaging foot, Stood straight, Looked about purple heaven.

Old and proud trees arched protectively over purple flowery mist, Shimmering under setting sun’s golden hews, Tranquility, Beauty in Gaia’s love.

Entranced, Sunset protective trees create purple shadows, No camera, Strove home bruised foot, Direct route.

Next day, Mid-afternoon, Camera in hand properly attired, Found stump, Looked around, No proud trees no purple no field, Mud and holes callous bulldozers, Gaia sacrificed for innovative soulless boxes, Unbelieving tears, Sunset hides desolation, Grey deathly shadows, Wandered home.

Years later, Walk vision of majestic trees and purple field in wondrous dreams, Wondrous dreams will die with me.

Blessed be.