rainclouds darkened the sky the morning of our departure, marking the end of so many days passed in spring sunlight

everything eventually fades

the day before, we’d ridden bicycles for four and a half hours, exploring the ribbon of trails through a corridor of green along the Avon

sunlight and tranquility

after the quakes whole neighbourhoods crumbled and remaining landscapes fell into zones deemed off limits for human inhabitation, allowing only nature to reclaim and resettle

all stories are impermanent

the river still winds and flows, pūkeko and black swans complementing its rippling grace, sedge and flax flourishing along its banks

birds don’t mind an absence of humans’ homes or driveways leading nowhere, their songs rise amid remains of once well loved gardens and wild seed growth between new stabilizer trees

denouement and emergence

we ride and ride and ride, read signs naming emptied cul de sacs, conjuring scenes of houses and fences and children—sounds of lives that once were

a melancholy, sobering parade

renewal flourishes and we mingle with the fabule establishment, voyeurs floating on wheels among muted ghosts still searching for taonga that might somehow have escaped the great rearrangement of order

an embrace of hope, memory, and resilience~