page 49

Rainy Out From Waitewaewae

The rain pours on the forest canopy,
Straight down. No wind
To fluster the leaves.
The drops [unclear: splas] on the moss,
The air so fresh and still,
The sound, so sharp and quiet.

Smokey moisture darkens the trunks
of ragged ranks of sappling scrub
And forest giants; dim in distant
Green-grey folds of hill,
That pass like ghosts of unknown times.
Strongholds of Nature,

Streamlets erode the forest litter,
And wash the debris
Of forest life and moulting mountains;
To build the plains
That lie beyond this quiet, noisy scene.
Slowly.

What tranquility and renewal
Is brought by this downpour,
That sharpens the senses
To normal awareness, and
Reminds one of Nature's beauty,
Even in more sullen moments.

J.S.