The poem leads
The door swung hard shut
and with the day a blank sheet
I let my feet take me just
where, which was up at first
to climb above the cold shade
finding snaking Salamanca
infused with fumes of buses
and bustles of students
so I left the road and strode
across campus, feigning familiarity
with this strange university
then through to Kelburn
and the Upland Road.
Striding easy, I planned
to return via Aro Valley
but instead surrendered
to the pull of the bush gully
down my right, quiet but
for an unseen stream
and the sweet creaks and gongs
of an unhinged tūī.
Following damp gravel tracks
around the contours of deep shade
I lost the arc in my mind
and suddenly stumbling into light
was perplexed to find
where the willful poem had led.