Matakana Morning

I sit at my kuia’s kai

Table a pane of glass

Reveals the church steeple

I’m not a christian

I prefer to be Maori

If I cut a hole in

The wall behind me

I’d have a view

Of our marae

Everything about me

Is in there

The morning dew

Cleans the earth

Preparing for

Another sunny day

My moon

Makes a poem

To blow

The night to day

Sipping tea

Scratching my head

Of living creatures

That knaw insistently

I wish I had  melting

Dew in me

To clean away

Natures appetite

Instead I scratch

And write and soon

I’ll have to spray

A dangerous concoction

To kill

What only wants

A home with security

On this unfolding day.

traceytawhiao(c)2011