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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 wilful poem had led.

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