Mary Cresswell


Golden Weather (Cook Strait)

Nana died on Boxing Day
we left Makara in kayaks

we paddled all night, we paddled away
Dad steered to the Southern Cross

we lashed the dog to a boogie board
and ate cold cheerios with tomato sauce

Porpoises played as we packed our sad
at dawn we skimmed the swells

the yellow Lab sank beneath the waves
Farewell, wept Mum, farewell.

At high noon Nana was bronzed
we swallowed grief and sausage rolls

Not before time we left for home
we turned our backs on the day

goodbye, we cried, you golden sun!
goodbye, goodbye, you yellow dog!


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Author’s Note


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