
I wake to a glow
alien pink filters in
my window at five

I wake to a glow
alien pink filters in
my window at five

Tiny Christmas lights
bringing joy to street corners
Pōhutukawa.

“Branches” seems surplus;
limbs of giant ancient trees,
cutting “arms” sounds bad.

Afraid, I hold back
leaping into the unknown;
trying new coffee.

Big blast from the past
the humble agapanthus
memories of home