Between a rock and a green space

Through tears in green leave fabric the light crept in on top the tortoise back. Yellow sank in the crown of green, like mustard squeezed to the tops of all the trees. The rocks spread down the mountain with water trickle, all craters on the moon.

We jumped from rock to rock and as they led the way up a makeshift path. Debated trails: too steep, too high, too big a rock to crawl around, what was by design? Who pushed these rocks to the centre where monks and hikers roam?

With muscle grease before machines, how long the ladder of steps must have taken to set down. We marveled at our rocky forest, not knowing the most impressive row of rocks was still to come.