11:32pm – Thoughts

Nighttime rain

Echoing black silver

Ribbons sling across the deep dark

Theatre of the night

In the misty lake

By the fray

Finding Fate


Low lands of New Zealand



The white flaked mountains

Bore life to rivers under

Where the animals drink

And men will build

In time erosion will set

The river carves its own path

Flooding comes soon after

Sweeping through our sandcastles

And the old deckchair