Ken's Poetry

Moeraki Boulders

I am trembling at the edge of 65 million years
treading a curve like the earth’s curve,
the eye’s, the horizon’s,
where the wild sea thrashes
curtained by salted spray.

Araiteuru, the great canoe
searching for the Precious Stone
slipped through the mist
and splintered on the rocks
strewing these gourds
along the beach.

Or in the ocean’s depths,
calcium and carbonates rained
attracted to charged particles
buried in the mud;
built stunning crystal cores
flaring with sunset colours
encased in mudstone orbs.

From my height,
perched on my chosen sphere
I see boulders, whole and broken,
have peered into their jewelled hearts.
Time and sea and sand
are scouring them from the cliff,
grinding them down.

Chilled by this amazing moment
I stand in the only known place
in the whole world
that they exist.