Stories of a Rock

You sit in my hand and tell me stories.

I am not as I appear

Stories of ice and fire.

My colours fade here, away from my home

Stories from deep within the earth.

Only anoint me in the sea and you will see my true self

Stories of heat and pressure,

Once smooth, featureless, grey

Of torturous change,

Violence tore at my very structure, squeezed me until I wept

Of slow cooling,

My tears still glisten, and trace my scars with brilliance

A condensation of minerals,

I glow with the translucence of accumulated stress

The story of your journey from crucible to mountaintop.

The angles of my fractured existence plain upon my face

The story of your tumbling fall to the sea.

My pain worn smooth from repetition

Tell me your story.

Let me rest now

Your whole story.

Soothed by abrasion

So like mine.

Slowly giving up my identity to the sea

Winter Solstice

The shortest day of the year dawned as it should,
Slowly.
Night wrapped its cold wet embrace
over Earth,
reluctant to let go.

Mine

Cloud and Fog conspired
with Night,
spread out
between Sun and Earth,
a blindfold to Sun’s brilliance.

What will you give us, Sun?
What will you give us to go away?

Sun lit Fog to blinding yellow.

I will give you Fire

Fog swirled and churned.
Wisps curled into eddies,
turned pink and gold.

I am beautiful!

Enraptured, Fog did not see
He was being consumed.
Sun turned her eyes to cloud.

The same for you?

Cloud bowed and parted.
Day began at last.

Darkness Rises

Photo: Egres73, Wikimedia Commons

Darkness does not fall.
Instead, rises
from shadows grown long
in the evening sun.
Landscape darkens
before sky.
Dark fills up the hollows,
the valleys,
the chook house,
(where birds rustle their feathers
to let the dark settle in close).
Finally, deep night
Rises.
Not too deep–
I can still see the stars.

Walking Around Town at Dinnertime

Kids on the trampoline
Windows open
Chicken, potatoes, and minted peas
waft to the street.

Apartment block
Curtains flap from
Second storey windows
Sending frying bacon
And curry
Skittering through the air.

In front of the rest home
Tinned beans
And tea
Sit heavy,
Cling to my shoes.

Past the shops
Grease from
Restaurant fryers
Coats every surface
And makes the sidewalk slick.

Beer and cigarettes
Billow from the pub.

I turn towards home
Where soup and bread
Pool in the potholes of the driveway.

Rangitata

Boulders like
Some great migration of hump-backed
Turtles
Lumber through the shallows.
Wading
Only to the knees.
Wary
Of the laughing burble of
The deep channel beyond.
Their cousins crowd the opposite bank.

Watch.

One will push another in
If you wait long enough.

Ode to a Rainy Day

Rain, Rain, here today
A fine excuse, inside we’ll stay.
Play a game,
Bake a cake,
Do some sewing,
The yard’s a lake.

Drip and drop, it patters down.
Might be a day to go to town.
Catch a movie,
See some art,
Stop off for
A neenish tart.

Paddocks brown all get a drink.
Best to stay inside, I think.
Read a book,
Drink some tea,
Have a chat,
Just you and me.