10-04-2017, 10:08 AM
Reflections
Coprosma twinks and glitters in the breeze
as if transmitting messages in code
about the warmer sunshine up the road
or just how many tuis use the tree
or maybe it’s just counting up the wrens
who flit within the tangled canopy,
statistic-keeping, showing 'Vacancies'
or ‘No room here, they’ve over-built their dens.’
The keruru don’t land there, no wing-room
for fat and clumsy pigeons; Move along,
you’re holding up the traffic - leave a song
and call again when flowers set as food.
The breezes drop, the lights fall still, and shine
a constant invitation - Haere Mai!
CRNDL - ouch. That last line is bleak.
High on the Milford Road
I drown in clouds
that filled Mirror Lake
when mountains fell into it.
Or, did they grow
out of the water, climbing
into the sky to dry off?
Trout fry flick up the cliffs,
darting through them as well,
so at home, when I lift up my eyes
it’s almost a shock, to see
there are no fish in the sky.
Coprosma twinks and glitters in the breeze
as if transmitting messages in code
about the warmer sunshine up the road
or just how many tuis use the tree
or maybe it’s just counting up the wrens
who flit within the tangled canopy,
statistic-keeping, showing 'Vacancies'
or ‘No room here, they’ve over-built their dens.’
The keruru don’t land there, no wing-room
for fat and clumsy pigeons; Move along,
you’re holding up the traffic - leave a song
and call again when flowers set as food.
The breezes drop, the lights fall still, and shine
a constant invitation - Haere Mai!
CRNDL - ouch. That last line is bleak.
High on the Milford Road
I drown in clouds
that filled Mirror Lake
when mountains fell into it.
Or, did they grow
out of the water, climbing
into the sky to dry off?
Trout fry flick up the cliffs,
darting through them as well,
so at home, when I lift up my eyes
it’s almost a shock, to see
there are no fish in the sky.