Photo: Marahau (windy gardens) at low tide, the marsh where seabirds gather
They stood here and there
Like little soldiers
The twigs !
Like little herons
Scrawny in the world
Of marsh and dead wood
In the microcosm
Of damp sand living
In a vibrant silence
photo: young wekas taking their first steps in Marahau, windy gardens, Abel Tasman
I will learn the cadence of my step unseen by the world in the learned traces of ancient stories following the pulse of life that beats in my veins
photo : Marahau, windy gardens, low tide, daylight and the vastness of the sky, bliss.
to catch in the course of an uncertain sentence
the words needed to reach
the love of a quiet surrender
at the beginning of each day
photo: a heron alone as a Sunday in Marahau
I was walking around the city
but I could hear my footsteps
like in my childhood Sundays
Everyone had gone home
for tea
Of course, we would have to
wait until Monday
to get back to life
Photo: At low tide, birds are busy finding what the sea has to offer, going through the branches that are struggling to find a place in the hubbub of the earth, in Marahau (windy gardens).
Everyone does their own thing/
after the retreat of the sea/
Wandering in the movements of the earth/
and the freshness of the air
