The Port Hills

 

The Port Hills

The lined faces of the Port Hills invite me
Slivers of light embrace me with soft arms
A cry of a black backed gull pierces the sky
and disperses the aloneness like mist

I proceed over the glowing hills covered with
strands of tussock combed to one side
The hills have turned their backs to the mundane
do not care about should and shouldn’t

The hills hold out a promise of harmony
leading me on a trail into a pocket of bush where
the leaves answer with a rustle to the whisper
of the wind, joined by the song of a Bell-bird

I rise above the shadow onto rocks, ancient heroes
who once withstood red hot tongues of a volcano
I reach the rim looking down and drink calmness
gazing at a carpet of Azure blue mirroring the hills.

I am but a speck in this spectacle of beauty
which moves me, coaches me, centers me
when life has thrown me off balance,
My spirit connected like a deep-rooted tree