From Montaña Blanca

winding through the avenidas 

to the edge of the small village 

where the farmed fields begin

- and it is quieter already


a dusty track where we climb 

onwards, steeper and higher

struggling to find the delicate paths

that vein across the volcano


as succulents now give way 

to grasses and wild flowers

and higher, pausing to look back

our parked car now far below us


until we reach the crater, where

leaning against ancient lava walls

we gaze out across the island

all the way back to the ocean


strange how different it is up here

as two egrets, bright, clean, white

gracefully glide into view then land 

as if they too sense a change


later, on the leeward side of the crater

we sit in the stillness and

we check ourselves for ticks -

I show you the poppies and geraniums


and I know that when spring rains 

have fallen again early next year

and the volcano is in bloom once more

we shall return









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