
I wake to engines—
inside, my brain fog clears up,
outside it descends.

I wake to engines—
inside, my brain fog clears up,
outside it descends.

Though we build bridges
often we fall a bit short—
in concrete and life.

Afternoon sunlight
fades into the horizon—
ocean rocks shine bright.

Pōhutakawa:
every day feels like Christmas,
walking tree-lined streets.