Aotearoa

Slipping beyond the realms of conversation,
led by the wind into the void
from where all visions spring,
of childhood, and fishing in Wainui Bay,
habitat of Maori,
illustrious beings
whose understanding of these waters
electrified my young heart,
set alight that other thing that
would forever haunt me,
follow me,
just an ache
triggered by certain conditions,
such as blue water,
cuts and sand bars,
the arrow dive of the fishing bird,
the soft warm feel of the sand
on lazy summer days,
the thrill of a whitebait shoal,
the endless cry of the gull,
we young hearts digging the beach
at the waters edge,
and later in the night boiling in
tins the booty - pippi.

Just an ache
that calls to this day,
forming in the wind a sentence,
a broken verse,
a clue -
seen by us all in that incandescent
moment of the shooting star,
felt in the chill of an early season dip,
perhaps understood in the moments
of death,

a glimpse,
a connection with things.

1995