Catlins Sunrise

Fresh air and morning sun,
the trees, which had grown
hard and almost into stone
in the long Catlins night,
wear a radiant skin of halo sunlight.
And the ferns, that were waiting
to be carved from the dark again
by the penetrating rays,
hold out supplicant fronds,
splashed with light and life and dew
amidst the pillars of the new forest.
And the birds, though only now
lifting their lids to the
fluttering dawn,
are already singing in their hearts,
are already pierced through
with morning.


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