A hot Saturday filled with fretful neighbourhood noises
and the detritus of recent decorating work
prompted a late decision
to head off to our favourite walk.
It is a long drive, but the promise of skylark's song
instead of screaming children,
the honeyed scent of downland flowers
instead of barbeque fuel fumes,
and a whispering wind,
instead of whining strimmers
But our favourite walk had a strange new story to tell.
As we approached,
a fine grey mist drifted across the view.
(We wished we'd brought jumpers.)
Now look east.
Paragliders are hurling themselves into the blue.
Watch the light show.
the happy ending.