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December make me forget May.
Walk with me in summer mist under power lines
where the loud tui bells out over the valley.
December I dream about you with your harbour
face in your sunshine hands.
Here we go again writing to each other, December.
On the other side of the aisle you lied about your list.
Mine was all porridge and salted fish, yours
was machetes and Christmas ornaments
drilled with holes and filled with salt.
December, in August the Hutt River flooded
but not for long. August went clucking off with a bottle.
In September you walked lightly off the ferry into a drift of soft night rain.
In this yellow square of light above Waiteata
I am a dark bird opening and closing its beak.



This poem is as yet unpublished anywhere other than here on my website, December 2014. I wrote it as a koha/gift for all those who have supported me and my creative endeavours for the last 20 years, and beyond. Kia ora koutou katoa x