The lagoon was mine alone today
my bush-soul loved the quiet
the roof of cloud holds in our heat
holds June’s arctic blast at bay
the drizzle fell south, then west
then in my face
the harakeke applauded & the wind
gave me an occasional shove
What kind of city is this?
Where are its million people?
The rain is not acidic (yet)
In India they’d celebrate
Be out to walk among it
Here, I wonder
do children still learn to splash in puddles?
Saturday, June 5, 2010
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