A story of a Mountain
The mountain on the other side of the bay was born
before colours were introduced to make the world a jollier place for humanity,
mind it has three hues, black, grey and white, without these
shades the mountain would have been unseen, a shimmer of the morning light,
to avoid an accident, it would have to be spray painted every four years.
The mountain is not a place for a Sunday stroll; they say it is slippery and
if a bird overflies, it drops dead; and no plants grow in cracks.
But where the mountain meets the sea are crustaceans the size of dolphins,
and one lobster can feed a family of five, so in its sterile exterior the mountain has a hidden richness and looks glorious at sunset.