Ocean to the east
mountains to the west
a wall dressed in doilies
rain held above
on the edge of falling
a floating lace valance.
Barrel north over our plains
agricultural audiences
but the mountains press in
I watch them immovable
as we pass
snow in far valleys calls
"remember the Pulsar?
Remember the tyre chains?"
I do, it's in my bones.
In this in-between
I feel homes pulling
South-North
neither win when peaks peek through
a life spent in two
equidistant in time
in space Raki watches
as I walk Papa's spine
every vertebra home
steady underfoot back and forth
especially beautiful now
shawled in snow.
Thank you to 1964 mountain / culture magazine for including this piece in Issue #5. A truly ataahua magazine celebrating the rugged beauty of our southern wildness, people, flora, fauna, and arts.
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