Path to the Or­chard

EDP Norfolk - - ARTS - John Love­day

I never owned a horse, But this one touches What­ever it is we mean By ‘heart­strings’, when I see His im­age, white, alone, Per­fected, or a part Of some more com­plex scene.

So comes the scene I write, A cen­tury and ten years gone, When there’s no rea­son to But odd per­sua­sion.

A trim, white-aproned girl, In match­ing linen hat, Leads pony Augereau Along a sandy path Against a Waveney stream Re­flect­ing blue. Beyond, Are trees be­tween vi­gnettes Of Suf­folk land­scape, sky.

The artist plays with white And its in­ten­si­ties. They peak on flow­er­ing phlox Along the fore­ground edge, In touches on the mane, On back and swish­ing tail, On fet­lock, on hat-brim: Brush-strokes of joy, and clear, Cool vir­tu­os­ity.

And Augereau Clip-clops his path into Heart­strings of cen­turies.

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