FUGACITY 05 - Jan Hutchison

Days among Trees

It was a year when my two aunts
would not share their sorrow.

Each day they sat at our table
and held their throats

to the light.
Yet silence was a tall vase
between them.

A month passed. A season.
A bud arrived on the doorstep
with a leaf. Pods on the flax
grew blacker.
Then a bellbird entered the garden
and the aunts stole across the clipped lawn to listen.

And Korokoro, the hill my father
loved, shadowed them.

Soon the wind combed an opening
on a dark knoll.
And all through the valley
There were echoes
from the trees.

kanono           kawakawa
kotukutuku          makomako
mingimingi        ramarama

This poem was published in JAAM 22, November 2004.
It will be included in Jan’s collection, Days among Trees,
to be published by Steele Roberts in the winter of 2005.


Jan Hutchison	Fugacity 05 Online Poetry Anthology index

Days among Trees It was a year when my two aunts would not share their sorrow. Each day they sat at our table and held their throats to the light. Yet silence was a tall vase between them. A month passed. A season. A bud arrived on the doorstep with a leaf. Pods on the flax grew blacker. Then a bellbird entered the garden and the aunts stole across the clipped lawn to listen. And Korokoro, the hill my father loved, shadowed them. Soon the wind combed an opening on a dark knoll. And all through the valley There were echoes from the trees. kanono kawakawa kotukutuku makomako mingimingi ramarama This poem was published in JAAM 22, November 2004. It will be included in Jan’s collection, Days among Trees, to be published by Steele Roberts in the winter of 2005.