HERE.
Although there is an easy poem about the rain
on a sheet of corrugated iron, and the vain
attempt to recreate its little tune
in some far basement; and although we once
all took ourselves to be immune
to vulgar home thoughts, being of a freer
cosmopolitan generation, now there runs
a nagging theme of 'here' across my verses.
If I had to be an old man over here
years later, exercised by nurses
in this garden, I would like there to be
one of those pink, delicate
mountain pepper trees.
~
more about the here
that is New Zealand, here:
New Zealanders
~
words: Nicholas Messenger, New Zealand
photo: Smitha Murthy, India
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