A Poem Lands at Christchurch
Eyes dart between paddocks,
each a random memory, grazed
until you turn from the vast tray
of late summer’s colour samples
to the red roof of a farmhouse,
a combine reaping,
and a shadow keeping up
that you swear wasn’t there
before it sprouted wings and a tail,
a black bird swelling with
the idea of its arrival,
scanning rivers, hedges, fairways
until it touches wheels touching down
on the edge of the plains
in the middle of remembering
why it ushered you there.
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