fear is a tiny seed
planted in my lower belly.
my thoughts fuel the seed
to sprout with gentle ease.
its roots are finally free,
wrapping around my feet,
never letting me flee.
it grows into a nimble tree
whose branches strangle me.
the tree wears prickly leaves
that sting my aching body
until my eyes succumb to sleep.

Politicians wield rhetoric
with pumped fists of emphasis

all the while
generation after generation after generation

taking advantage of youth
and the idealism of the young

women and men, not much more than children
give themselves to the fire.

living next the sea you get so much more than sunup and sun down
you get Moon tides, daily tides, low tides, high tides, tides life rides and tides that deposit the dead.

the day is too short to not have play time
and lightheartedness can love deeply.

The sun and the moon
In the same sky, not left out
In the cold darkness

Life is a puzzle

              it's up to me

              not to make mine a muddle

He never worries
No not him
I have to do it all
Chasing everything up
Making sure things get done
Reminding everyone of everything
He just wonders about
Not a care in the world
Leaving it all to me
All the worry
And then, suddenly
Just to wrong foot me
He does something kind and thoughtful
The *******!

                          By Phil Roberts

Not unlike needed caresses or gentle kisses,
the morning sun did bathe my upturned
face in needed glow of restorative warmth.
An encouraging respite after weeks of clouds
and cold rain to lift my flagging spirts,
supported and enhanced by the celebratory
songs of a plethora of birds, all this perhaps
the shining moments of glory in my entire
self isolated day.

Light and deep shade dancing
As I stride the mountain pass
My fascination prancing
As appreciations bask.
There's a tui in the cherry
And a magic song he sings
As he annoints the morning air
With the joy a summer brings.
There's a vibrancy a-hovering
And a crispness to the feel
A clarity so scintillating
One might, actually, doubt it's real.
A sky, so blue to be azure,
Extends across, on high,
Cloudless with a baking sun
Impaling you and I.
These old volcanoes soar aloft
They, now quiescent, stand,
Clad thick in stands of Kamahi
And towering Rimu, grand.
Great Egmont with her snowy crown
Rears high above it all
To dominate the beautious-ness
Of ***** and waterfall.
A tiny fantail flits about
And so entrances me
With aerial bombardments, flung,
In near impossibility.
The song of rivers plummeting
Down ferny glades and stone-
Causing me to laugh aloud
In serenade of home.
And sauntering through this wonderous-ness
Of magnificence in green,
This glory of New Zealand,
Is, indeed, the very best ...I've seen.

M.
Midsummer Taranaki, NZ
30 January 2021