SPRING THOUGHTS

The rain is pissing down… I’m sure it’s personal.
My lungs are tired and my meat-self aches.
The New Zealand Spring is actually three seasons:
First Spring, in which golden trumpets of kōwhai
in vain try to assert precedence of protocol
over bluebell and daffo-down-dilly;
and Second Spring of green livery heralding Summer.
In between is Shit, the season we don’t speak of;
season of mud and drizzling diluvial misery
that lingers like the smell of fish and chips inside.

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