THROUGH THE GORGE
It was not the deep, narrow path
between the rockfaces or the fear
of meeting a snake I remember best.
It was not the view at the mouth
of the pine-tree bay, the waves that climbed up
and down the poles of the jetty and the blue van
placed as if by chance under the blackthorn bush
white with blossom. What I remember best
is the tall, slender deciduous trees
which through the entire gorge pressed themselves
flat against the rock to create the greatest possible
space for the light that slowly streamed
towards me from the other side.
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