It's one of those brumous mornings up here in Havelock North
like the breath of everything has halted
a veil over the property, over the house
igniting the webs with droplets
the pepper tree, the mandarin, the lemon
slick and glistening
globules fruiting on the bonsai Cypress
each globule, a mini world
if you love witchcraft and potions, maybe even Macbeth
you will love being here
stand in this philtre for five minutes
your lashes will be dripping
tight-knit beads enshroud your robe
with all his fusion and benevolence
the sun's a buried bulb,
the moon a fuzzy bone
this phantom vellum, this spectral poncho
this tracing paper distilling in me a feeling pleasing
as the tui's song dripping from his throat.
Andrew McIntyre was born in Wales and lives with his partner and two sons in Havelock North.
He is in the process of writing two books of poetry, one concentrating on the death a child, and the other a book of sonnets. His poetry has been published in takahe and Poetry New Zealand. He works in the orchard industry.