poetry

satellite stream while awaiting the Okarito kiwi

satellite stream while awaiting the Okarito kiwi

at least 30 glowing pearls on a string
arc across the sky
below Orion’s belt
evenly spaced
long enough for us to
discuss the phenomenon
while it unfolds

satellites, the simple answer
but to what end?
the old Englishman and I both say
we’ve never seen anything like it before
what could it mean
but war?

at the library next day
I consult the 1s and 0s
and quickly find an answer
Starlink-1, a chain of 60 satellites
Elon Musk’s put in the sky
sailing over New Zealand each night,
an effort at connection not destruction
another wonder
that still doesn’t approach
my delight at seeing
B-Zed the kiwi

poetry

Sand Creek sigh

Sand Creek Sigh

wending our way
through ghosts of kahikatea trees
shattered into cheese crates
we all go sour

buttons pushed
silent or silenced
vacant stares
and equally frosty penetrating scowls
the irritating jabs like mozzies upon us
I steam
why can’t we all just get along?
as usual
not seeing how I’m running things off the rails
not taking into account
a hierarchy of needs
no amount of sunshine or seaspray can fill

tonight the little morepork owls are everywhere
their 2-note incessant cries
like the repeated badgering question
of one son grinding his will against another

no, I can’t fight it
that little morepork must say his say
share all his dark time wishes and won’ts
sing his little heart silent
and I must summon more patience
again tomorrow

poetry

The Bunny Bus

The Bunny Bus

hop on up to the bunny bus
it’s a rainbow-colored ride
come along aboard with us
where everything’s tie-dyed

La-la will be your driver
and Franky’s her best mate
a twitchy nose behind the wheel
will make your vacation great

if you are feeling blue
or the highway’s got you stressed
just give their ears a stroke –
even softer than you’d guessed!

so which way’ll it be, son?
where should La-la head?
Up the hill to Haast?
or was it Wanaka you said?

either way she’s ready
her big hind foot’s a-tapping
and her whiskers are aquiver
(although Franky is still napping)

so wriggle on through
that little bunny door
that your worries just can’t fit through
you won’t need them anymore

‘cause with La-la at the wheel
and some carrots in your pocket
the good vibes are as electric
as your finger in a socket

now New Zealand rolls away
Southern Alps and ocean, too,
and if there’s any problem
it’s that the hours are too few

from one end of the South Island
all the way to the other –
now don’t forget to bring along
your mother, dad, and brother

there’s room for everyone
in this Technicolor dream
and, yum!, Franky’s passing round
scones with Devonshire cream

so come for tea and stay a week
the bunsters wave you in
cause on the rainbow bunny bus
we’re all like long-lost kin

poetry

Piopiotahi Wind

Piopiotahi Wind

waterfalls ascend into sky
white veils flow straight up
in this wind so strong
trees fall and water rises
another true miracle
I only believed on sight

poetry

mindful silence

mindful silence

in the deep dark of the glowworm cavern
there’s no chatter, no photos
(our guide warned)
and we are immersed/transfixed
by black water rushing below us
while above constellations of electric blue blips
are scattered at random like so many stars
all we can do is suck in our breath
and look

later a woman asks
Why did we need to be quiet?
So we could all enjoy it
our guide says without apology
without hearing where
you’re going to dinner