4 years

The firmament above, the Southern Cross 
wrapped up in my infancy, fifty miles to 
Pukeoware's undulating hills, the merest mention 
of macrocarpa and I am transported back 
when all was transparently still, comfortable, 
the smooth feel of warm eggs nestled amongst hay 
and feathers, the slow walk through three fields 
filled with mushrooms and bulls, forever chasing 
my shadows, laughing as each magpie eyed 
the steel of my buckle, a stick in hand my only defence, 
that creek where I would spend all afternoon fishing for eels. 
Blood, all life attracts to this smell. Earth, the rain floods 
each dip and cranny. Forget-me-nots, freed of the warmth 
of compost, to live and die, to bloom and repeat this cycle 
when I am gone. 

Reviews

[Tina Vainola]

Creates a vivid image of New Zealand's country in such a few words. I adore the melancholic notes. Simply an amazing piece.

[emmajoy]

Wonderful .. this is your own garden of Eden .. an expanse of remembered sights and smells, feelings and life .. ' the slow walk through three fields ~ filled with mushrooms and bulls, forever chasing ~ my shadows, laughing as each magpie eyed ~ the steel of my buckle' - now that is observation writ poetry!

[E.M. Lev]

The imagery here is captivating. Quite beautiful and meditative. Lovely.

[Emily B]

the words are foreign, strange, but the feeling they invoke is hauntingly familiar

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I like this earthy feeling...farm fed.