Once the ciccadas begin their crisp-winged chirp in November, you know you’re in for a good summer season in Kiwi land. Break out the beers and barbecues, short shorts and mozzie repellent; go camping in a tiny tent and temporarily dislike who you’re camping with because of the cramped conditions, dig for pipis, get drunk and make silly promises, learn to swim or swim ’til your digits turn to prunes…
Here’s my nod to poetry. It’s not entirely my ‘thing’ but I do find my thoughts at least sound a little prettier, as do most people who write poetry. And they say writing is purely masturbatory unless it is shared, so here we go for the plunge. (Water-wings optional).
Warm thoughts
It’s possible to feel more possible
In summer
Decisions are easier to make
When it’s summer
Ice cubes and lawn mowers
Sand pressed into pink buckets
And wardrobe do-overs
Now it’s all about temperature
Your body being free of heavy things
Having and holding browner skin
The wind pushes, white wine cool,
In the spaces between your veins;
You can watch things grow
Into what you planned
And wonder if, when you look inside
Your heart has expanded too
The world is a brighter shade of hope
And it will fit you in
In summer.
