I
The trig is clear
from a ridge two hours walk away.
A well deserved stop –
we boil a hot chocolate
with chilli
to warm up us.
For a mountain top
there’s no wind
and our breath is the only cloud.
We take a stone to the trig
and write a poem
on its rusted black board
and then we jump around
warming our feet –
the sun has another hour to drop.
II
We can see a chalk smudge triangle
the size of my little fingernail
it is Mt Taranaki, around it
the air
shivering –
unsure of itself.
The coastline at day’s end
teal and white
golden
and empty, a crescent
shaped for the sun to find
a comfortable slot.
III
There are mountains
brushed as a single stroke
into the sea.
Up here, there are many islands
many skies many seas
and a seam of blue
pours them together
as the blue flies out
and fades out.
IV
On my feet I slowly spin
these mountains
a full circle
capturing something
a foot away
and unfathomable space.
V
Our billy is empty
we have finger-licked the chocolate
pieces melted to the bottom
the billy reflects back
a golden world
but the metal is cold.
VI
The sun is not far off
setting, the sea is hosting the fire
and throwing it back into the sky.
VII
We pack up and
see the first star.
VIII
Crimson.
Tags: 2010, inspiration, landscape, mountain, reflections
