Aotearoa

By
Over silver ferns the kiwis are creeping
The cold of night into my skin is seeping
Lunar shimmer, crystal frost
In my memories I am lost
Through the dark the mist is sifting
From blackest clouds the snow is drifting
Brooks are rushing, crickets are hushing
The far horizon is faintly blushing
The radios talk, the huias squawk
Down to the warmth of the kitchen I walk
Solar glow melts frosty snow
Down the drive in trickles it flows
Aotearoa, flaunt your beauty
O Land of the Long White Cloud.





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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

Abby S (author) said...
Sept. 16, 2008 at 12:12 pm
Wow, Meow, you are tres smart about kiwis for an American person. I applaud your awareness of our culture. Well, I guess we are all internationalized... so there would really be no excuse if you didn't know what kiwi meant.
 
Anthropomorphic Phantasm said...
Sept. 14, 2008 at 11:19 pm
I like this poem I grew up in Wellington, moved to America a year ago. You describe NZ well =]
 
JessicaMeow said...
Sept. 14, 2008 at 12:59 pm
Beautiful poem, written with beautiful words. Good job, kiwi (a kiwi is a person from NZ, for all you who don't know)!
 
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