I
wandered far with the clouds,
with blessings they were well-endowed.
The pelting bounty, drop by drop
from my memory, dot by dot,
quenched the embers of past days
fed by antipode's summer rays.
On the ascent to Harris Lake
my heart cried out for a break.
"Cardiac path, mind the lore!",
a compassionate soul roared,
who flew like on Mercury's feet
over the track, rugged and steep.
The mountain failed in its promise
of gorgeous views, hours of bliss.
To no avail, I scanned the veil
that shrouded the adjoining vale
as if Nature were in mourning
and Heaven's eyes with tears burning.
I dragged my sodden boots brooding,
when out of the grey was looming
a lake surrounded by Faërie,
a haunt of moss and bearded trees.
A spell was cast, oh, may it last
through this lushness unsurpassed.
That night the sky kept dressing down,
from star-studded to a murky gown
and in the morn a silver thread
laid early claim on the track's bed.
Streams displayed their supremacy
under the emerald canopy.
When back to civilization -
car park, shelter, domestication
of water trapped behind a tap,
from head to toe in soaking wrap,
Faërie's generous token -
the spell was broken.
