Possibilities
Moments in Sand IV
Urupukapuka, 2009
From one end of the beach I see my children
all the way at the other, silhouettes rush
at water then retreat up sand
as waves chase and almost catch
their featherlight feet
They stop, lean in, consult, hover
then purposefully work, carrying things
back and forth
bringing items to evaluate, discarding many
keeping only the right ones
I am too far to see the treasures
they choose and assemble with care
but I hear their voices tinkle my way
on the grey air, soft chimes in my ear
Their tiny forms squat over a mound
of feathers seaweed and shells ,
larger scallop shapes wedged round the edge,
a barricade
against everything
a stick-and-seagrass cross at the head
they know how to build a proper penguin grave
Up close now, I hear
them whisper wishes for
this wee blue one:
forever and safe and
hush
I wait for them to finish
Some things you
cannot
rush
Time to rest
One grey day the earth decided to sleep. The mighty mountains shrugged their rounded shoulders and sighed a great necessary sigh. The wide seas sucked their liquid breath in and out in deep soothing swells. The earth turned inward. Oil stopped flowing. The flat plains coughed a dry cough and the mantis-like machines creaked to a halt. The ocean floor sneezed a satisfying sneeze and swallowed the drilling platforms whole. People who lived on the planet scurried around noisily looking for shelter, and those who could took flight to new frontiers. Some — the quiet ones — stayed behind, and made peace with the sleeping mother.
Soon, all activity ceased and the only thing audible was the sound of sleep in a world that emerged ecstatic with fragrance and colour. Tiare and jasmine shouted happy stories across continents, magnolias made mad love as their roots stretched deep into the wet fertile soil, while sequoia and kauri reached with their arms toward heaven.
And the mighty mountains sighed, and the wide seas heaved.
And the earth dreamed blue-green dreams.