• A Divine Beauty

    A Divine Beauty

    Pohutukawa’s crimson
    in the twelfth month.
    No more pain of being in the bud.

    Beauty blossoms the landscape
    of the bare heart
    warming it like the breath of creatures
    healing like nectar.

    Veined leaves
    rustle in the evening
    with a felt underbelly of moisture

    Dark red heart wood
    roots resting in infinity
    interweave wisdom and story
    of our eternal Mother.

    Seeds white as Ngauruhoe snow
    carried through the air
    with spirit of salt spray and wind
    share the ancient commandment of life.

    Leaves fall
    in the wintry light
    limbs becoming bare,

    Circles of time sanctified
    fragile hope.

    Nothing more holy
    in the ninth month.

    ©Hilary Oxford Smith
    ©Image: Pohutukawa Abstract, Harold Coop