Christchurch

Christchurch is my home.

Beside me

branches 

sway in the cool wind 

Left-right-left-right.

Behind me 

dew 

drips,

from the big oaks, 

landing on top

of the neighbors roof.

On the road,

a car's 

exhaust pipe 

pumps out dust,

from behind, 

polluting

the fresh air. 

I reach out in front of me,

and touch the

moist

wood of the fence. 

The otakaro

river runs

through Christchurch,

-  cold and wet.

At the beach,

my brother and I 

dive

into the waves,

on a hot summer's day

the water is brisk.

Christchurch is my home.

By Casper