The Earth’s sweet turning
has roused newborn Dawn
from her Ocean cradle
light caresses waters
suffuses the island
haloes great Pico
that looms across the strait
enwrapped by rose clouds
reaching to a pale zenith
held in awe by all who gaze on her
she slumbers still
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
There are never enough photos of Pico
Says he, as he takes yet one more
The light has changed again
And the mountain looks about to roar
We’ve flown over and around her
Driven along her lower slopes
But the best view is away from her
From little Horta’s shore
The mountain slumbers on
Fuji slopes gracefully curving down
She glows rose in the dawns light
By midday she can glower and frown
Clouds drape her and embrace her
Shadowing scree and walled-in grapevine
However far we travel away from her
Somehow that volcano is always mine
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
And so we end our Virtual Holiday in the Azores with a poem about my favourite volcano. The first line is a quote from my Cheeseseller, as the mountain changed once more and he took yet another photo!
I hope you enjoyed your trip. The photo below was taken just after dawn, from our hotel balcony on the isaland of Faial, as we prepared to return to England.
There are never enough photos of Pico
Says he, as he takes yet one more
The light has changed again
And the mountain looks about to roar
We’ve flown over and around her
Driven along her lower slopes
But the best view is away from her
From little Horta’s shore
The mountain slumbers on
Fuji slopes gracefully curving down
She glows rose in the dawns light
By midday she can glower and frown
Clouds drape her and embrace her
Shadowing scree and walled-in grapevine
However far we travel away from her
Somehow that volcano is always mine
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2015, about my favourite mountain, Mount Pico in the Azores.
There are never enough photos of Pico
Says he, as he takes yet one more
The light has changed again
And the mountain looks about to roar
We’ve flown over and around her
Driven along her lower slopes
But the best view is away from her
From little Horta’s shore
The mountain slumbers on
Fuji slopes gracefully curving down
She glows rose in the dawns light
By midday she can glower and frown
Clouds drape her and embrace her
Shadowing scree and walled in grapevine
However far we travel away from her
Somehow that volcano is always mine
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2015
The Cheesesellers Wife 