Saturday, November 9, 2013

The Mountain

First I saw a goat, a prehistoric creature with colossal spiralling horns,
coarse matted hair and yellow eyes.
A herd of goats trailing down a gorge
was her hair, ragged streams divining routes down her back,
a cloak of autumn-gold tussocks
with swirls of inlaid bronze bracken blazing in the sun.
Her face was a graphite sheen; eyes: crags in a waterfall,
nose: a darkened  boulder with cold glittering cheeks on either side.
Close by, a rowan’s red mouth was chortling;
a cloud had torn itself to rags escaping the clutches of a hawthorn;
above us hail stones were ripening for a fall.

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