Maserof

In the beginning

A deceptive Eden

Carob-green and aromatic with thyme

Uninhabited, except by fist-sized arachnids

And a lone dog

In summer verdancy

Each sun-split stone springs a bloom

Desert-rare and startling

Hot violet, gentian-blue, spike yellow

Like flesh in a convent

The cooling season

Still surprises with pregnant heat

And the breath of the Maserof

Tip-tilts up the valleys runway to the blue ache

Of sky

Standing at full height on a ridge

Child’s hand in mine

I can hear voices rise from the gorge

Ethereal, like a dream spoken aloud

The sounds dissipate.

Sept 2004