A bright summer afternoon cycling beside old man Manawatu. A gentle cooling breeze blowing upstream and a raft of ducks showing me their backsides as they forage off the river bottom.
And now seated on a bench seat in the shade of a macrocarpa tree I realise that it is the very same tree that my nephew and I climbed and claimed for our own more than thirty years ago. And I am grateful.
This morning, during my walk,
I found myself humming that old classic
‘Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer’.
Imagine my delight when the morning chorus
was usurped by a Christmas song.
Where do these screensaver songs come from?
Do they leap down from tall trees
onto unsuspecting passers-by?
Or are they lurking within us,
waiting in long queues,
jostling each other for the opportunity
to raise our spirits in song?
I look forward to tomorrow
when I am rescued from
that annoying moment
of quietude by…
Jingle Bells or the Birdie Dance.
I’m feeling more hypothetical
than poetical today.
Feeling more doggone it
Suffering more from neurosis
More ho-hum than poem.
More hearse than verse.
More agitated than alliterated.
This man’s a
never going to write a stanza.