The Dry Stone Walk

Bolting packaged food
along the gleaming corridors
easyJet to Palma

    first sight in Port Andratx
    4 garden Buddhas

panting up through pines
clack of sticks stops:
the wine-dark sea

    new boots old feet

immense dark silence
two companions
cold kiss of moonlight

    dappled sunlight dappled shade

eight vultures drifting
cool updrafts
douse my face dry

    pink eyelids blink
    goat’s evening greeting

long day’s end
sweet cocoa
nothing to say

    message on my mobile:
    say hello to the stars

out of thump-startled sleep
step back as donkeys

    this is the best time
    flowers breeze morning stride

café con leche
in Banyalbufar
renga disputes

    this olive tree hasn’t moved
    for a thousand years

trudge up through noon heat
in a cistern’s green water
a turtle lolls

    3 cans of Red Bull
    ready for the climb

we spread our mats
in the soot caked camp
of long dead charcoal burners

    arms cradling space
    Qi Gong on the Pla d’Aljub

walkers’ talk
weightlifting & poetry
green tea on the mountain

    huddled among rocks
    rain patter on GoreTex

crunching along the top of the clouds
martins slice the void
no mountain no valley

    they too are lost
    4 friendly Hollanders

just hearing
soft bells of Deia
6 am

    marmite on veggie sausages
    early morning bliss

half a week unwashed
fresh day walkers pass
a whiff of perfume

    shirt soaked in the stream
    dries on my back

this dry stone wall
moss lichen liverwort

    juddering down the cobbled track
    grafted centuries ago

workers papers Spanish TV
in a rainy café
we wait for Nick

    full of strangers this hotel
    in our neat separate rooms

strung across my bed
underwear 8 woolly socks
memories of rain

    a few faint smiles
    tourists in Port de Sóller

rough day on the esplanade
the ageing artist gathers up
her unsold landscapes

    16 cats or more
    at the lighthouse of Cap Gros

passing over the Coll
cairn with crucifix
and fresh flowers

    sheep-dung on the porch
    the padlocked refuge

can’t figure asphodels
numb fingered morning
beside the windy lake

    my knee will forgive me
    for not climbing Massanella

two electric candles
flicker for the Black Madonna
50 cent devotions

    blessed daylight dispels
    the basilica’s chill

last night’s torrent
this morning’s scattered puddles
limestone valley

    no snag on the barbed wire
    mindfulness of robes

small snake basking
unflustered by my footfall
retires into her cave

    lost my jacket kept my life
    rock scramble through the karst

legs weigh a ton
in the holm oak’s shade
let the afternoon dawdle

    eyelids glowing
    I smile into the sun

glance in the mirror
creased eye-folds and stubble
Mallorcan landscapes

    flanked by my snoozing friends
    easyJet to Gatwick.

A travel renga, written (mainly) in Mallorca
from the 28th April to the 10th May 2010.

Bhikkhu Abhinando
David Glendinning
Ajahn Sucitto

Posted: Tue 20 Dec, 2011