Peace is in the blue shoulder sheen
Of the pukeko, forgetting that it
May have been he who ate the ducklings.
Peace is in realizing the lawn grows in clumps
Like bamboo forests, with clear spaces between
Where duck’s feet fold the blades down like weaving.
Peace is in the way the fern fronds leap up
Like karate masters with multiple arms
Holding their elbows high in seeking the light.
Peace is in the dreaming sea sparkling tide
Quietly creeping along the mangrove shoreline,
Breathing through a blend of pale blue and green.
None of the other tulip flowers
Has been as singular as this one
Bruised beetroot ruddy red layers
Lit at the tips by silver morning sun
It reaches out on steady stem swaying
Nodding in the air its head as if to say
My cup stretches catches light playing
Through my depths adoring this day
But my neck is strong leaning long
From the heavy bowl holding my body
And I open to death gladly scarlet song
Of my surrender my breathing nodding
Upturned clapper of a bell tolling the time
When these petals will fully open fall away
Break against a wall crucible of will chime
In resonant waves radiating reach to eternity