The ferns on the top of the hill were matted and pointy in spongy zigzags,

underlining a smudged sky with afros while the sky’s tears tumbled down hills

and grass shafts quivered with exuberant currents of one direction -

I was wearing the wrong coat.

 

Soaked to the skin I shivered my core in trickles of habitual protest, giving way

to waterfalls roaring rounds of applause, echoing smooth and ragged rocks

and spindling trees like spun sugar; building others thick and wise like warriors -

out of nowhere solemn silence.

 

We marvelled long and deep at this craggy place of peace and chaos.

 

Some only see what they want to; we faced all of nature’s offerings.