I know you.
White spaces on a page, silence as a baby sleeps.
Pauses in a Pinter play, an evening sky before the first star.
Bare earth, bulbs below, oceans, empty of whalers.
The Black Magic slope, clear for me, on the last ski-run of the day.
Smell of a new book, autumn leaves susurrations.
Rising river’s roar, the DOC hut at long tramp’s end.
Snow-flakes on my tongue, first glass of vino tinto.
99 Ways into New Zealand Poetry.
Yes – I know you.
Dear Paula, Happy Birthday. My first ‘contact’ with you (and Harry) was through 99 Ways Into New Zealand Poetry. I was new to writing and sopped it all up like blotting paper – tried every format and form! Here’s my adapted poem above about that special feeling one gets from serendipity and unexpected, lovely happenings like your book.