I am travelling toward my hometown
With Ruapehu to my right
looking like it is etched into silver
as the sun catches it at such
an angle that it shines.
Ahead I see Taranaki
through some haze looking
like an ancient picture
painted on rice paper
so that it is translucent
yet its perfect shape
is recognizable even from here.
I have Dylan and The Band playing and
they are asking me how long
can a mountain exist so
that I wonder how these mountains
looked before there were
people here and do the
sheep in the fields now
realise that those peaks are there.
But by the look of
the lambs in there now
they do not see much past
the udders of their mothers
right now.
And the realisation comes to me
that this is one of Russell Hoban's
"Moments under the Moment"
and my heart sings.
