No Tapu Te Ranga Ahau | Milla Fogarty, Lucian Wilson Kirby, and George Symon

As I look around the bay I see

hills going up and down,

planes and helicopters flying through the sky,

a bush like a beard died green,

plants coming out like hands,

an old rock as dusty as Mars.

The sun is like a starfish.

Ants are living in mini houses.

I feel

wind freezing like a snow bed

and I touch

toitoi like bunny tails

and I hear

cars zooming past like waves washing up on the beach.

Flowers smell like honey.

I picked up a leaf like a Japanese fan
and the leaf was as old as your grandma and grandad.