Morningtown
A golden glow spreads across the horizon, as I shake the nightmare from my head. I can hear her deep purring now, and know my bubble buddy is safe, her fur already carpeting the floor a snowy white. It is spring, and she is shedding the heavy coat I love to bury my face in. Hot, sweet coffee in hand, I am suddenly aware of the rumble, and gaze out my window. The iconic Norfolk pines standing tall - long after they were planted in 1888 - and there, threading between them, the illusion of the train, its silhouette as magical as Hogwarts Express. The road is higher there, and it’s my early morning treat: ubiquitous utes, container trucks, concrete mixers, shadow shapes with tiny drivers at the wheel. “Are you settling in?” they ask, kindness tinged with politeness. I wonder what being settled means, or if I ever want that feeling. I have moved from the metropolis, the busy roads, the crowded malls, to find stillness. The irony of Level 4 Lockdown in Auckland does not escape me, and my hea