Blow the Wind Southerly

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Dear Nor’wester

 

Now we will have to sweep

all the leaves you’ve blown

across our paths and garden

 

pieces of trees in the shape

of leaves, yellow, red and

even the freshly green

 

the dying fronds of the

punga skirts whipped off

and carelessly flung

 

to land thwack on the

bedroom deck startling

us as from peaceful sleep

 

your whine is impolite

you cause the blind to rattle

and the roses lose delight

 

our neighbour’s pohutakawa

dances, I’ll grant you this

a mesmerising flagrant bliss

 

but our kowhai and camellia

seem to huddle side by side

as if supporting one another

 

the sea looks grey and

angry, more confused

than splendidly wild

 

the whine you bring

Nor’wester is the

tantrum of a child

 

not like the southerly

when the sea rushes

with enviable vitality

 

dear Nor’wester, I need

to tell you, I much

prefer the southerly

 

blow the wind southerly

 

 

 

 

 

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