Letter to Hobie from Rincon de la Vieja

Letter to Hobie from Rincon de la Vieja

Mud pots would erase our wrinkles, warm thermal waters ease all pain. Light mist from far off clouds refresh these moments. Winds blow them all away.

Have you felt this way, sitting in a warm pool, surrounded by winter? When elk appeared out of fog were you amazed? Mystified? What eased your pain before you found someone to share it with?

Snow falls like ash in the place you call home. Here ash and rock, fumes and steam remind me that even the hearts of mountains move.

In the melt of the day this afternoon sun casts rainbows. Pots burble. Fumes disperse. Winds blow my thoughts your way.

© Kåre Enga

19.enero.2013. Rincon de la Vieja.