I cannot drink you,
or eat until I reach my fill,
I cannot savour every rise and hill,
consume each circling bird that drifts in flight
or charge my glass with graceful morning light,
I can only hold you,
fold you as a memory to keep and put away,
and promise that with luck I may return one day
My trip to NZ is coming to an end. I have used it as a poet's journey of inspiration