In a simple field, no different from any other
Is a clump of small trees with a dark secret
Amongst their roots, we tiptoe down a rocky slope
Torchlight reveals a dry tunnel, strange shelf on the walls
Chattering, we walk until daylight is extinguished by distance
We stop, simmer to quietude, and turn off the torches
Liquid rock once ran where we now stand in black silence
The rock around us the scum that floated on that river
The apocalypse that created our tunnel has disappeared
Copyright © 2016 Kim Whysall-Hammond
More on our virtual Azores Holiday……This poem is set on Terceira, all the islands are volcanic and there is plenty to explore.
Terceira is also known as the party island. The locals certainly know how to have a good time.
We will be in the Azores all week — a poem a day to fly you away……