Sun-bleached bougainvillea petals
pile up along the fenceline
like obsolete coins or the scales
of some iridescent fish. In a dream
an enormous carp leaped out of
a clear lake and into my arms,
wriggled its mighty muscles and
dove back into the water. What
was it for? Luck? Long life?
I may find out, if I reach the top
of this ridge lined with dried
eucalyptus leaves, tan and tough
and scattered like feathers
on the angelback of the mountain.