In the beginning
A deceptive
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
