i've never liked to hike before
until i met the trek
from the volcano to the shore.

emerging from the cold grey sea
wet and sleepy
to meet fields of grass
where light plays in the sweet-smelling air, like
the pleasure of cold water
or warm honey.

past the crevices,
tramping through fields of laurel & mantis,
the golden mountains ***** to greet me
like a kiss on the fingertips
after a story read and chocolate melted
in a house with tea rose air
until --

hark! a black pit,
the gorge leading
to the Path of Everywhere!
opening and flooding with
the world of color
and putting forth sadness and insight!
gaze upon the silent wonder!

the air up here speaks to the ocean
with a silver voice as a constant decision.

i often sit by the eyelet and breathe in the warm black,
dangling my feet in the thick air,
and it seems to dive through it
would be to find a home in that i could live.