The shimmering bubble
Tenuously breaks from between the crags
of Mt Pitri
And plunges into the mirrored ocean of sky
So small, so fragile.
Unchecked, the gentle glow
With time throws back its innocent form
To impose its radiant tyranny
On the mountains that gave it birth.
With lazy sun overhead
And cool waters lapping around their ankles
The children fling lines
into the Quemquemtreu
Unaware that the stones their toes grasp
Are products of the years of
Nature's powerful forces.
Rains and thunder.
Nitrate smells
and rusty nails.
The churning clay
of grey trails
meandering through grey woods
reflecting the grey sky.
