Mist upon Creech Arch, the Lady Door and strangeness

In early May, I found myself walking to Creech Arch - I'd parked the red Peugeot by a view point, overlooking Kimmeridge - there were a few other cars parked there, stilled beasts, dripping with mist - it was impossible to admire the prospect of the magical sea, the secretive farmhouses, the lonely sweeping fields - icy vapour rolled inland - all was silent, vague, mysterious -

I stood upon the chalk ridge - bare trees were half choked with ivy - I saw a field lapped by sea mist - purple wild flowers grew feverishly beside the pathway -

The Arch appeared, quite suddenly, out of the chill blankness - I stared at its damp lichened masonry - through the archway I could glimpse a hidden country -

I thought of the Lady Door, of the House Portico - what strange destinations would she uncover, if she stood here, now, within this arch?

I turned, to look seawards - as I did so, the sea mist lifted - I could see the line of the hill overlooking Kimmeridge Bay - I could see, little by little, the strangeness leave the land -