Old Testament Northland

Try to forget the wishing sea,
the salt and gorse bushes.
Weather is a tabernacle
borne by tired farmers.

They live from house-fire to
house-fire. Last week, what you
thought was sunset was
just heat open to heaven.

Islands wait each day
for a parting of waters
the exodus of seabirds,
an end to servitude.

This landscape is the great
false God only painters
believe in, their passionate scrutiny
poured into fallen colour.