Frosts before Summer
Waiting here listening to an Indian Summer,
The winter’s frost out there on the grass waiting.
Not sure if I’m awake, alive, or dreaming,
Drinking tea here with some damper and jam.
That’s when I look up, and your standing there,
Bare feet on the frost covered grass just waiting.
Not far, just a short walk out beyond the fencing,
Dark silk curls, a saltwater skin like sunburst clouds.
Here walking out to join you, walking out across the frost.
The cold it ain’t so bad now, for the new day’s waking,
As we make out for the bridge, can you hear the whispers,
Of sweet winter’s frost waking slow beneath our feet.
Then you bolt we’re racing, past the frozen forest green,
I can hear you laughing, when you slipped and lost your feet.
As I help you up, you pull me in close, and whisper to me,
Do we have to leave here, why did we have to lose our way.
We should’ve never of stopped traveling,
We should’ve just kept walking on each day.
But you know we paused here, and
It’s been the best of times we’ve had.
Here on the wild wind shores of Aotearoa,
Far up in the mountains high above the sea.
Where your home has been waiting for so long,
For the many years to pass having set you free.
So you know we’ll stay here, make a home a place to breathe
For as long as the mountain waters run, run to find the sea.