The wide sky
a single wood pigeon whooses up
a deep drag in the wild circle of air,
the blue sky nestles up inside itself,
I close my eyes on
the dotterel
soft small wings
rise up and edge the wind.
I wake up my sleeping feet
with wet sand on a windy night
and the slap of the ocean foaming
I wake them on the grit of broken cockle shells
and wild celery adrift in the banked up shells
I wake this body
still curling in memory
of pohuehue cushions in the sand dunes
or a wise fire settled in the night
I wake up
to a single bright star
and the end of autumn.
