trout

Doing it

We stand at the back of Grandad's house
in the regenerating bush with Drew and Trace.

We stand at the top of a rock which
we climb by wedging ourselves upon flax

and roots of pohutukawa. We crouch
inside that rock in the sea cave where

penguin tracks trail the deeps
and our voices fill the hollow left

by the tide. We glide and stroke in
rock Jacuzzis where the tide just reaches

and our shoulders sink into bright saltwater.
I sleep and am woken with a sunburn warning.