Riding a mountain

Omslag Werklik

Photographic: DWV

Riding a mountain


The muscles

in the mountain’s haunches

ripple as it strides forward.

Its feet

clatter on the slippery plate

deep down underneath.


The tides of the centuries

ripple over the mountain’s flanks

like fluttering birdsong.


The long back of the mountain

flexes and relaxes lithely

as it moves forward

through the thin vapour of time

being born continuously

in front of its wet nose.


I sit behind

the hump of this holy cow,

my heels clenching its sides.

All the time I am here

I am here.

About kruger01

Poet, author, translator Grandfather of five. Bonsai grower.
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