Buckler’s Hard, Hampshire

We left a mood at Buckler’s Hard,
that made the body water-tight,
the disused slipways of the yard,
that used coppiced oaks to fight.

We hardly spoke –
fritillaries flickered shade to light
to raise the hearts –
O hearts of oak!

A happiness of butterflies,
a streak of red, an eye or two,
paint butterflies on this face
(or anywhere) to mark a place
to lift a mood,
to change a view.