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we walked in driving shards
of cold rain
across your scrubby slopes
through stands of beech and five finger
keeping our heads low
against the drenching onslaught.
it was forming us –
recoiling inside wet puny jackets –
as it has formed your slopes
interminably
scoured gulleys in your soft volcanic soils
abraded your scoria-ed skin
aided by cruel gales
before the snow sets in
offers a seasonal respite
to that ravaging
but also another kind
a frosted etching
and has formed others too –
the ancient toatoa
leafless and mute
like a vegetative coral
the hardy wooded stands
and low hugging tussocks
companions
to our loop walk in the mist
wondering, shivering
how far have we come?
should we go back?
until rounding a serpentine flow
into a rock riddled gulley
off the edge of an andesite cliff
relentlessly knifing the lava
a fusion of rain and melt
clear as deep space
tumbled to a mosaic-ed pool
rock lined, crazy tiled
water lying bright
the pure elixir-dew
that alchemists collected
on cool medieval mornings
nectars gathered
while suffering the wearings down
of your molten productions
the hot fiery streams on your flanks
now crystallised
pumice, ash and brittles.
so you’ve entertained the maelstrom
of rain and wind in which we walked
ventured in
discomforted
aware that we were exotics
tolerated to a point
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