Waihi, Bay of Plenty, New Zealand
pukekos pace through
I count eight pukekos foraging, one's a baby. Beyond this paddock is the estuary, Bowentown head, Tuhua in faded distance. The pukeko chick gets nearer. It seems older than the others somehow, more timeless; its feet are completely out of proportion to its body, useful in the swamps. It's brown and fluffy with a slight pale stripe on the wings, the head darker.
in the sky
I've tried too hard at life, attempting to be perfect; having realised that, I feel weary and relieved.
A breeze flaps the shade sail—is that trying to be something? No. There are many noes to our endless questions.
step across the paddock