is the voice of Pakiri Your soul?
the Marum Dunes of this place,
awaiting the earth woven Kites of my kaumatua,
cross legged with hinaki fingers pointed toward heaven,
an estuary to claim,
Awaken the flax and winter sand!,
latening chill of September rides grey and wide,
thunderous waves breaching my
tremble to awaken my conscience,
Rowley it’s September already and
blessed limbs of these trees are nurturing children,
their bones arched like gods,
stature to reign,
Rowley, I now know it’s time to straighten my dogged back
Yet the footprints
trace appear littered with pipi shells,
silence will not cease to broaden my contemplation
My head is Orphelia we’d imagined last spring,
tussock ridden under her lashes,
sleeping amidst the arms of a Pohutakawa,
hands to bleed as a sister to the fire flower,
she wept a sea from her hip,
wailing a hymn for me never to forget,
her fish tugging at my nerves,
tears are running off the lip of the
alive to the sight of Seagulls,
prowling a desolate coastline for food,
are travellers of the soul!
dipping wings into the backbone of the pacific rim,
resounding their flutes of solace,
I am a fool for romance.
Truly I see only the art of natures cloth
What lies in wait for me?
Musing my silence,
tremble to ask.
2001 Trout &