Mt Holdsworth summit (Oct 2010)

18 Nov

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.

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