A Piece of Wild Land

I be getting me a piece of wild land with an angry creek, a drunk duck and a paranoid chook with a gully of kawakawa and a knob of oak sprawled out all bent and dripping lichen with kunekune pigs beer barrel fat for acorn bacon and winter ham.

I be getting me a sage grove for meditation and a mad place for faeries, a place to make music and listen to the stars and night things.

I be getting me a forge with a beat up smith in a large leather apron.

I be getting me a cave with a long long cave girl with a short fur wrap and stockings. The ones with seams up the back. Or thigh high ugg boots.

 I be getting me a log fire and a coppice of ash and oak, and totara spreading out on to the ryegrass weed.

 I be getting me a piece of land to make a common so no devil corporate or daemon child can sell it to the Man. The Man be not allowed.

 I be getting me a place where we can grow and eat and play and live and laugh and love and die.

 I be getting a place to listen without a sound. And sigh.

Chris Perley

August 2013