Poem – Lynn Davidson
Leaving Wellington At dawn I caught a taxi to the airport and saw first light ignite the hillside houses – and I thought about how still life artists deepen the surface of their objects with a bloom that, without saying, evokes a place with people the way those rising houses implied rooms to escape the wind, to circle in, to slacken. The plane drops its grey shadow in the sea and the shadow pulls back slightly, like an anchor. Hours go by and elements still gather. Each day my waking children, just by naming assembled all the solid
___________________________________________________________________This content is restricted to subscribers.
If you are an existing subscriber, please login.
If you would like to subscribe to New Zealand Review of Books Pukapula Aotearoa, find out more here