Thursday, September 6, 2012

Reflections from the Marae

I saw:
...the church that was 100 years old
...the black, sooty sky friends and I playing caterpillars in sleeping bags
and people playing tag.

I heard:
...sleeping bags crackling like a fire,
...year 8s giggling
...people getting up and going to the toilet
...Whaea Sue telling us about art
and Mr Neal snoring like an angry warthog.

I could feel:
...the softness of the carvings,
..the soft, warm sleeping bag
and the warm air of the wharenui carving around us.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I could feel what it was like reading your poem Pip - loved the description of Mr Neal's snoring!