one-way street
magnolia flowers
facing the opposite direction

green acorns
the stamp
of an old ewe

late spring gusts
the howl of a wicket appeal
from the local ground

early morning run
her hair swings side to side
fired by the sun

drowsy afternoon
a duck’s eyelid
slides up

camping ground -
the cries
of other people's children

rock tuatara
the sun catches a pulse
     in its throat

dry summer –
the kale-field shimmering
with white butterflies

midnight -
my lungs widen
with stars

summer ends
counting the dents
in my cricket bat

end of summer
scarlet stamens in the folds
of my tent

raindrops
and the sound
of a shoe being unlaced

wet morning
the girl holds back her hair
with her ears

first prize
a pumpkin-sized hole
in the planet

a pause
in our conversation —
golden gingko

constant rain —
I can smell
the grey of my horse

mountain frost
the rise and fall of a pebble

snowflake
my breath
takes it away

biopsy i am my heartbeat

his final illness
the shiny corridor
to the exit

health centre aquarium
at the bottom
a dead goldfish

behind the window
of the genocide museum
I see my reflection

mountain shrine
leaving an offering
of paua shell

a handful
would suffice
mountain stars

the bishop
moved beside the king
Maori powhiri

moving again
three boxes labelled
driftwood etc

bus ride
her pigtail
hangs in my notes

putting on weight 
the one-walk-a-week dog
from Paekakariki

unlocking
the gun cupboard
the wild in the dog’s eyes

pioneer cemetery
here and there a name
faces heaven