Quiet Morning, Lake Pukaki

Quiet morning, Lake Pukaki,
the grey dawn sky
coldly faces the blue night
still pacing in the glacial depths.
A single thumb of land
holds the edge
where the immensities
would leak into each other
and cease feeling.
These three belong
from transition to transition,
and there is no language
where the still wet ink
of the sky and the lake
and the uncertain cliffs
finally breach the feeble lines,
run into eddies of confused silence,
before the day comes dividing,
restoring.

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