Springs of morning, winter clear, endow
one day (you gather) more, or less
with what may be pure promise. From above,
from any peak along the Moehau line,
pour light and water. Follow through glen,
ravine and gully. Have it run by bushburn
which is steer’s acre or the hogget’s ground.
Lead it towards goldminers’ gorges; make
it tumble, final, on their ruined township
from which with some grand gesture it may take
these harboured waterways, surprising
a yawn from an oysterman, an illicit
elegance in the Fisheries patrol launch,
a native drumming where the kahawai school.
Come out. Drink from your morning. Later,
28. 8. 65
put into that beach on Hoki where are rocks
that were trees, trees which are rocks,
a slow dripping of water. Lightly, lightly.
You have drunk that water. You will not
be as you were. That much is promised.