I went for a walk in the mountains,
and brought an object from each of the five days in the landscape.

The first day a friable piece of sandstone.
Then a skin shed from a snake.
A hard round seed-pod cracked open by a fire,
A fibrous black filigree mesh of the palmiet,
And a fragile white apple blossom,

As well as these, the following were left behind, and came along too:-

The brush of buchu in the mountain mist
Spots of yellow, purple and red on a camouflaged mountainside
The buffeting beat of the mountain wind
Soft icy hailstones melting on hot skin
Iridescent blue dragonflies
Croaking frogs
Deep green luminous oozy moss
Sweet grass stems
Crunching restios under boots
The pain of blisters with the first steps of the day
Hot feet soothed in an icy stream
An overarching blue sky – wispy white clouds
Burnt black protea bushes against white crystal sand
Glistening dewdrops on a spiders web
A swarm of bees
Suspended breath under the weight of a waterfall
The pounding of the heart near the top of the mountain
The fear of heights looking over a precipice
The gentle softness of clean feet in new socks
The darting leap of an orange backed frog

And the stone taught me that all things re-form with time
And the snake told me to strip the next layer
And the seed signaled death and rebirth
And the plant fibre suggested we are all connected
And the blossom whispered fragility and love

All things come and all things go

It was not really a walk.