Ōpōtiki
My eyes drink
Parched
All the hills here are beautiful Except when covered in pines
It smells like
Honeysuckle
Sap
And tar
Outside my marae
Cornfields rustling
And the promise of a harbour on the wind
My eyes drink
Parched
All the hills here are beautiful Except when covered in pines
It smells like
Honeysuckle
Sap
And tar
Outside my marae
Cornfields rustling
And the promise of a harbour on the wind