A single feather falls
- down to earth -
through filtered light and liquid forest air,
landing softly in the palm of my hand,
a silver teardrop, a song, a memory;
the echo of a startled kererū.
E koekoe te tūī, e ketekete te kākā, e kūkū te kererū.
Not back - just visiting. Miss y’all!
Have just started Te Reo Māori classes. The last line translates as: ‘The tūi chatters, the parrot gabbles, the wood pigeon coos.’
