a gift of basalt waited for a year
under his tree
after his passing

now formed into a beautiful vessel
a place for water to swirl
or to contain fire as Lou himself would have done

para planted in the gully to the west
kahikatea planted in the gully to the east

kōwhai in a row
one for each of us
signifying home

pūriri timber
rescued from the firewood pile
shaped & sanded into a landform

remembering a time past
layers below where we now walk
​
sawdust
a strong & pungent signature of the tree
unexpectedly a soft yellow
​strangely unlike it's own flowers
or leaves
or bark

mixed with water & gently heated
immersing a few fibres
exploring the possibility of colour

a fortuitous find of an historic article
with scant reference to altering the pH
by rolling in ash

hesitantly adding the ash water
& immediately falling in love

celebrating a new found knowledge
heart heavy with the absence of our friend
unable to share in person the joy & the triumph

forever grateful
despite the brevity
for a truely magical friendship

waiata of farewell
floating languidly on the wind

I don't want to live in a place where a baby dies & is found to have alcohol in her bloodstream
I don't want to live in a place where people have to be told to remember to handle their babies gently 

I want to live in a place where you can get so close to a Bumblebee that you can see it's fluffy body
And a child grows up knowing that she's part of a world where it's best if everything is handled gently