The Kingfisher

Kakamatua

The thing to notice first is the quiet,
A space that opens before us as we
Trudge on the shells of a lost multitude,
Or the soft murmur of the trees like a memory of traffic,
The city that hugs the far shore.

I smell grass and manuka and
I think of whiskey, not the hot taste,
But a sweet memory
That brings tears to my eyes.

Past the headland
I see the rippled water,
The rippled land,
The rippled sky,
Before your hand slips into mine
And we walk across the bones of a thousand lives

I work my feet in.

The dog hares past us,
Kicking up sand,
Bees dance on the wind
Hovering over their hollows.

With each second that passes
The scent grows fainter
I forget the way to the water
The whiskey
The memory that gives life
To the present,
Swallowed on the incoming tide.