A lone Pohutukawa – tall and proud
Tortured, gnarled, knobbly
Masses of crimson red flowers – the colour of blood
Pert golden stamen and tangled tree roots
The flash of a white throated Tui
Shiny - metallic blues and greens
Petulant clouds and shivering grass
The dull wing beat of a fat Wood Pigeon
A vista of sparkling blue sea
Air heavy with salt laden breezes
Cartwheeling, graceful white gulls
Majestic Ponga with Koru - brown and curling
Steep paths and the cry of meandering sheep
Puriri, bracken and sweet smelling Manuka
Scampering rabbits – hesitant, nervous, alert
Tombstone grey gravel – narrow, dusty and rutted
The aroma of newly cut hay floats on a gust of hot air
A cricket’s monotone song
The clapping beat of the sea
Shadows stretching across paddocks
The last of the filtering sun teases
A sky - sullen and smudged.
Where have all the poets gone?
ReplyDeleteIn the carriages of the Melbourne trains you can read a stanza (I remember that from school) or two. The latest writing of : .....mother/poet; proud grandmother; drifter/dreamer; and my favourite, ...teacher/now pupil aged 55.
I loved your poem, I can see and smell 'Fantail Bay' keep up the good work. Annie (PS. I also just love the puppies in Blackhawk's profile)