More On My Mythic Hythlodayin Drive To Work.

Asphalt steers me from Mamaku to Reporoa
Across this country's naked heart
Pulse exposed, beaten by Maui's brothers
Tendered with Aroha.

Mamaku mountainettes, an ancient valley of kings
Mysterious geyser tombs, or mudpools, or mini-volcanoes
Calling down the frosts, fogs and clouds
The old one's mantle of mana.

And you, Ngongotaha, Es tu kia kaha
Proud amongst your peoples
Head in the clouds
On days you cry for Hinemoa.

Weaving through a fogbound quilt
Rolling hills stitched with naked birch
A patchwork swandri of exotic pines
Ruffling Rainbow Mountain's disgorged shoulder.

The fiery breath of rivers rises through the frosty fresh
Kerosesne Creek heralding Waiotapu
Her jewels scattered, spilled across the valley
Her irridescent palette, geochemical emotions erupting.

Beyond a battalion of beheaded mountain sentinels
Reporoa's plains unfurl from purple fog
A series of bucolic winter allegories
From those anachronistic Christmas cards.

I expect sun-sized smiley faces
To cascade over the hillside surrounds
Congratulations for winning solitaire
Finding my mythic eutopos outopos.