Ohakune — Eve of a New Year

I watch mountains drink
                        the sky, its burden
of purple and cold steel
                        blues bulge.
Overflow of thirst
                        for newness. Anaesthetise
stinging nettles of old
                        pain. Still yearning
I look up and see
                        God in nature —
the mother whose round hips
                        I swim to and clutch
when sky mirrors
                        the sea
and storms, I am afraid of disappearing
                        at the very edges.
I seek calmness in quiet —
                        mother hushes with her scent —
pinecones and kawakawa.
                        I saw the mountains
drink the milk of the mother.