Master Yellow Tree
The Shining Cuckoo
-One-
A shining cuckoo
Migrant
Nesting in another’s nest
Her son’s father delighted at the prospect
She arranged to have everything sent from her birth continent
They were settled mum, dad and ‘bump’
Their boy died four days old in his parents arms
The baby boy was named Sipiwe
An African name that means 'that which is given'
The significance hardened by grief
Father believed his son would survive
That conviction was a monumental epithet.
Life's purpose, to love and be loved, fulfilled.
-One-
A shining cuckoo
Migrant
Nesting in another’s nest
Her son’s father delighted at the prospect
She arranged to have everything sent from her birth continent
They were settled mum, dad and ‘bump’
Their boy died four days old in his parents arms
The baby boy was named Sipiwe
An African name that means 'that which is given'
The significance hardened by grief
Father believed his son would survive
That conviction was a monumental epithet.
Life's purpose, to love and be loved, fulfilled.
Now alone Sipiwe had his legs folded up under his elbows and his hands drawn up under his chin. He contemplated his death and his journey. Destiny for him ephemeral as the Kowhai, the Manuka grove and a few friendly birds.
He had no urge to move. Shyly he leaned into the Kowhai and whispered to the yellow capped flowers, “Hello,..my name is Sipiwe.” The little Kowhai moved by the breeze and aside from the rustle of leaves it was silent. The boy began again “Did you hear me?” The little Kowhai roots drank from the soil and seemed happy.
Leadlight sun through the large trees. There was a flurry, “Tiwit, tiwit” then a pause. The tiny bird fanned out his tail gave a coy sway then repeated “Tiwit, tiwit” and stared straight at Sipiwe.
“Hello,...” said hopefully to the bird, who then cocked his head to one side and got busy nibbling insects caught with a series of quick snaps.
Presently the bird replied “mm,...yes, yes. Do you know his name?” the bird gestured with his wing tip toward the Kowhai.
“Whose name?” asked Sipiwe
The bird replied “You will see, covered in flowers you will see he is Kowhai the yellow tree. Kowhai was planted in this special place just for you. To be with you in your journey.”
Sipiwe was not convinced “Then why does he not speak to me? That’s not friendly at all.”
“Silly,...tiwit, tiwit,...he does not talk like you. He is a growing person. They are a special friends because they don’t leave where they are planted. If you come to this spot he will be here especially for you.”
Sipiwe was now quiet he returned to his place face to face with Kowhai. The sun gone, the moon risen and all still in the far end of the garden.
He had no urge to move. Shyly he leaned into the Kowhai and whispered to the yellow capped flowers, “Hello,..my name is Sipiwe.” The little Kowhai moved by the breeze and aside from the rustle of leaves it was silent. The boy began again “Did you hear me?” The little Kowhai roots drank from the soil and seemed happy.
Leadlight sun through the large trees. There was a flurry, “Tiwit, tiwit” then a pause. The tiny bird fanned out his tail gave a coy sway then repeated “Tiwit, tiwit” and stared straight at Sipiwe.
“Hello,...” said hopefully to the bird, who then cocked his head to one side and got busy nibbling insects caught with a series of quick snaps.
Presently the bird replied “mm,...yes, yes. Do you know his name?” the bird gestured with his wing tip toward the Kowhai.
“Whose name?” asked Sipiwe
The bird replied “You will see, covered in flowers you will see he is Kowhai the yellow tree. Kowhai was planted in this special place just for you. To be with you in your journey.”
Sipiwe was not convinced “Then why does he not speak to me? That’s not friendly at all.”
“Silly,...tiwit, tiwit,...he does not talk like you. He is a growing person. They are a special friends because they don’t leave where they are planted. If you come to this spot he will be here especially for you.”
Sipiwe was now quiet he returned to his place face to face with Kowhai. The sun gone, the moon risen and all still in the far end of the garden.
Old Friends
-Two-
Sipiwe woke in the dawn chorus. He lay on the grass, listening, fresh buzz traveled up from the earth and poured through his veins. The Manuka grove circled upward and over forming a protective gazebo around Sipiwe and Kowhai. East a gully that dropped steeply into a tangle of native bush. West was a carefully sorted vegetable garden. Walking half way up the hill towards the house Sipiwe turned. From there he had a clear view north across a large harbour. Out left a barren and volcanic island, to his right the greener communal island covered in bush and a few small settlements. Within the sanctuaries of bush lived vermillion plumed Kaka. Their calls course and blunt in the distance.
At the top edge of the gully grew the Puriri and the Taraire. What wonderful body language between the grand pair their shoulders and elbows touching. Their friendship, their pride, standing tall beside one another.
Together these growing people formed the warm heart of the garden’s ecology enjoyed by all the many fruit and nectar eating birds.
Sipiwe sat observing these two friends and the community they sustained he wondered if he would ever be like them so tall, proud and
companionable. Could he stay in one place so long?
“Kowhai.....,” he began but the tree said nothing.
#
Sipiwe was perplexed about this journey and why he must go alone. He thought about his parents and felt a deep penetrating heart sore, remembering being held. At that moment the Fantail returned to the grove swooping and fluttering in what seemed like a three pointed waltz around and around
Sipiwe. A smile broke across the boy’s face.
Sipiwe’s mother looking out over the garden felt a tug on her heart. “Sipiwe my darling boy I am thinking of you.”
-Two-
Sipiwe woke in the dawn chorus. He lay on the grass, listening, fresh buzz traveled up from the earth and poured through his veins. The Manuka grove circled upward and over forming a protective gazebo around Sipiwe and Kowhai. East a gully that dropped steeply into a tangle of native bush. West was a carefully sorted vegetable garden. Walking half way up the hill towards the house Sipiwe turned. From there he had a clear view north across a large harbour. Out left a barren and volcanic island, to his right the greener communal island covered in bush and a few small settlements. Within the sanctuaries of bush lived vermillion plumed Kaka. Their calls course and blunt in the distance.
At the top edge of the gully grew the Puriri and the Taraire. What wonderful body language between the grand pair their shoulders and elbows touching. Their friendship, their pride, standing tall beside one another.
Together these growing people formed the warm heart of the garden’s ecology enjoyed by all the many fruit and nectar eating birds.
Sipiwe sat observing these two friends and the community they sustained he wondered if he would ever be like them so tall, proud and
companionable. Could he stay in one place so long?
“Kowhai.....,” he began but the tree said nothing.
#
Sipiwe was perplexed about this journey and why he must go alone. He thought about his parents and felt a deep penetrating heart sore, remembering being held. At that moment the Fantail returned to the grove swooping and fluttering in what seemed like a three pointed waltz around and around
Sipiwe. A smile broke across the boy’s face.
Sipiwe’s mother looking out over the garden felt a tug on her heart. “Sipiwe my darling boy I am thinking of you.”
The Tent House
-Three-
In the September winds the garden got very cold. Everything was perennial green yet somehow the greens within the green were new. The tallest trees dropped scraggly limbs and other trees began to stretch their branches.
The flower patch was overgrown instantaneously by weeds. Within this genesis the strangest newcomer to the garden was the old tent house.
Previously resident at a neighbours this tent house suffered neglect. The young girl given the tent house bright and new had left the house to weather several storms ripping its seams and then fade in the relentless summer.
The weather turned wild the old tent house whithout resistance released itself to the whims of the wind. Up, up, up twirling and tossing in the great open sky it went. Then thrilled as a kite it stalled mid air losing all lift and tumbled earthward.
As a house what kind of shelter could it be with no roof, what kind of warmth could it provide with torn seams. Did it even look inviting with no bright colour? But it had a heart and for that it was welcomed to the grove as a home, a shell for lonely spirits.
When Sipiwe’s parents visited the Garden that evening they smiled.
#
How could his parents just let him go? Sipiwe thought about it and wondered if he had let go. Did she love him too much? If she had needed more would he have stayed? Did he go because she had given him her blessing? He was in such a terrible struggle to survive.
-Three-
In the September winds the garden got very cold. Everything was perennial green yet somehow the greens within the green were new. The tallest trees dropped scraggly limbs and other trees began to stretch their branches.
The flower patch was overgrown instantaneously by weeds. Within this genesis the strangest newcomer to the garden was the old tent house.
Previously resident at a neighbours this tent house suffered neglect. The young girl given the tent house bright and new had left the house to weather several storms ripping its seams and then fade in the relentless summer.
The weather turned wild the old tent house whithout resistance released itself to the whims of the wind. Up, up, up twirling and tossing in the great open sky it went. Then thrilled as a kite it stalled mid air losing all lift and tumbled earthward.
As a house what kind of shelter could it be with no roof, what kind of warmth could it provide with torn seams. Did it even look inviting with no bright colour? But it had a heart and for that it was welcomed to the grove as a home, a shell for lonely spirits.
When Sipiwe’s parents visited the Garden that evening they smiled.
#
How could his parents just let him go? Sipiwe thought about it and wondered if he had let go. Did she love him too much? If she had needed more would he have stayed? Did he go because she had given him her blessing? He was in such a terrible struggle to survive.
The Stranger
-Four-
Dry ice fear in the morning air. The stranger had Sipiwe’s undivided attention. It began tying one end of a rope to the Manuka tree immediately beside the Piruri and slung across the gap to another Manuka on the edge of the grove. This was no washing line.
Sipiwe pondered this his conclusions were ominous. He began to fret and pace.
What should he do? How could he stop this? He wanted to shout and cry and stamp and yell. But he knew this would not stop what was about to happen. His heart sank his jaw dropped and the unthinkable occured.
Grrr grrrr grrirrirr chunked the chainsaw.
First the stranger loped the largest branches within reach. Then from one side to the other he carved two v’s in the lower main trunk. When the tree was left balancing on a narrow stem, it’s heart wood, the fell was done.
There was a creek, a few snaps then a solid crack the carved tree leaned and it landed over the muddy earth. Sipiwe’s heart split.
Grrr gree greeer the chainsaw started up again and in no time at all the main growth of the Manuka was dissected into equal stumps stacked a rack firewood. The bushy tips consumed in a large metal box made.
Sipiwe had a protective urge. That strange man could just rip the little Kowhai out of the ground. That little tree was living yet could not control the will of man.
#
Sipiwe’s father had not carried his son in his belly for nine months but his heart was heavy with the full body weight of his son. Had he missed the opportunity to do something differently that would have changed the outcome? All the right urges were there but, a man, he could not control life nor death.
-Four-
Dry ice fear in the morning air. The stranger had Sipiwe’s undivided attention. It began tying one end of a rope to the Manuka tree immediately beside the Piruri and slung across the gap to another Manuka on the edge of the grove. This was no washing line.
Sipiwe pondered this his conclusions were ominous. He began to fret and pace.
What should he do? How could he stop this? He wanted to shout and cry and stamp and yell. But he knew this would not stop what was about to happen. His heart sank his jaw dropped and the unthinkable occured.
Grrr grrrr grrirrirr chunked the chainsaw.
First the stranger loped the largest branches within reach. Then from one side to the other he carved two v’s in the lower main trunk. When the tree was left balancing on a narrow stem, it’s heart wood, the fell was done.
There was a creek, a few snaps then a solid crack the carved tree leaned and it landed over the muddy earth. Sipiwe’s heart split.
Grrr gree greeer the chainsaw started up again and in no time at all the main growth of the Manuka was dissected into equal stumps stacked a rack firewood. The bushy tips consumed in a large metal box made.
Sipiwe had a protective urge. That strange man could just rip the little Kowhai out of the ground. That little tree was living yet could not control the will of man.
#
Sipiwe’s father had not carried his son in his belly for nine months but his heart was heavy with the full body weight of his son. Had he missed the opportunity to do something differently that would have changed the outcome? All the right urges were there but, a man, he could not control life nor death.
Small Axe
-Five-
The Myna birds are a bunch, they gang up. Their philosophy is Myna birds first and they are never left out. Unfortunately they are no good at sharing. A small prize won is to fight further they are ratty and unpleasant squawking and shrieking amongst themselves. Which way they scratch out is unpredictable.
Sparrows seem to have a simple defence. Either they form a group in greater numbers deployed to confuse the Myna birds or they go unnoticed individually on account of being so small.
#
Bully birds, I call them. The general day to day stuff is driven by them. They have no regard for the moods of others worst to be amongst them when you are feeling fragile. To explain how you are is really beside the objective and would unrealistically require they share your feelings.
Longing to be at peace with the world and all those around you, yet actually in a fluster and dizzy.
The simplest solution to sit quietly and breath gently. In this the growing people are above human nature. Anger is like taking a small axe and using it to chip away at a huge tree.
-Five-
The Myna birds are a bunch, they gang up. Their philosophy is Myna birds first and they are never left out. Unfortunately they are no good at sharing. A small prize won is to fight further they are ratty and unpleasant squawking and shrieking amongst themselves. Which way they scratch out is unpredictable.
Sparrows seem to have a simple defence. Either they form a group in greater numbers deployed to confuse the Myna birds or they go unnoticed individually on account of being so small.
#
Bully birds, I call them. The general day to day stuff is driven by them. They have no regard for the moods of others worst to be amongst them when you are feeling fragile. To explain how you are is really beside the objective and would unrealistically require they share your feelings.
Longing to be at peace with the world and all those around you, yet actually in a fluster and dizzy.
The simplest solution to sit quietly and breath gently. In this the growing people are above human nature. Anger is like taking a small axe and using it to chip away at a huge tree.
Black Bird
-Six-
Sipiwe discovered right under his nose in the nearest panga tree a couple of Black birds had built a nest and laid two broods. On this morning the first egg was hatched. The smallest little creature demanding food, eyes not yet open the wings barely two lumps. The nestling could just get its head up and its mouth wide, then collapsed into the soft lining of the nest till the next feeding.
Sipiwe was delighted to observe and tried not to disturb. When mum got up he got a look. The nestling struggled to breathe and his skin sucked in between his ribs. The young bird quaked to survive.
Mum and Dad flew off in turns on a continuous cycle to collect food for baby who grew bigger. The lumps on his shoulders unfurled like two fists stretched into a fan. The feather stems kept on growing like the way a cats claws come out to scratch.
The supreme fragility marvellous yet the fledgling would take his nurtured life in a mortal leap to fly. In awe Sipiwe loved this bird with all his heart.
#
-Six-
Sipiwe discovered right under his nose in the nearest panga tree a couple of Black birds had built a nest and laid two broods. On this morning the first egg was hatched. The smallest little creature demanding food, eyes not yet open the wings barely two lumps. The nestling could just get its head up and its mouth wide, then collapsed into the soft lining of the nest till the next feeding.
Sipiwe was delighted to observe and tried not to disturb. When mum got up he got a look. The nestling struggled to breathe and his skin sucked in between his ribs. The young bird quaked to survive.
Mum and Dad flew off in turns on a continuous cycle to collect food for baby who grew bigger. The lumps on his shoulders unfurled like two fists stretched into a fan. The feather stems kept on growing like the way a cats claws come out to scratch.
The supreme fragility marvellous yet the fledgling would take his nurtured life in a mortal leap to fly. In awe Sipiwe loved this bird with all his heart.
#
Lay Down
-Seven-
Kowhai grew while Sipiwe realised that all the little tree did was survive. Sipiwe not with his parents felt at home here. Nature and the connection between him and the young bush was now strong.
If he closed his eyes and took a deep breath he could feel the breeze russell through a gazillion leaves on fine limbed branches spreading in many directions around his heart. Little spiders, praying mantises’ and hungry caterpillars moved about living all over him.
Sipiwe remembered the day he first came to the garden and thought about the fantail. Then he said to the breeze “I understand that I am Kowhai the yellow tree and that I am a growing person too.”
#
A heavy sigh spread all the way from Whitford to the Hanua range. The feeling natural awe at the power of the wind and the truth of the growing one. The Grand Old Macrocarpa had bent with the wind so far over that all his roots had torn and he collapsed with a tremendous thud.
Silence, an absolute confirmation he would grow no more. This end dignified to lay down in fact the proper manner.
-Seven-
Kowhai grew while Sipiwe realised that all the little tree did was survive. Sipiwe not with his parents felt at home here. Nature and the connection between him and the young bush was now strong.
If he closed his eyes and took a deep breath he could feel the breeze russell through a gazillion leaves on fine limbed branches spreading in many directions around his heart. Little spiders, praying mantises’ and hungry caterpillars moved about living all over him.
Sipiwe remembered the day he first came to the garden and thought about the fantail. Then he said to the breeze “I understand that I am Kowhai the yellow tree and that I am a growing person too.”
#
A heavy sigh spread all the way from Whitford to the Hanua range. The feeling natural awe at the power of the wind and the truth of the growing one. The Grand Old Macrocarpa had bent with the wind so far over that all his roots had torn and he collapsed with a tremendous thud.
Silence, an absolute confirmation he would grow no more. This end dignified to lay down in fact the proper manner.
