By Lake Wakatipu,
The air is heavy scented with pine,
A gentle wind ruffles the emerald water,
Brooding woods hug the shore.
A clearing appears,
I sit on a wobbly rock,
Distant mountains loom,
Brushed with powdery snow,
Clustered tree tops speckled golden yellow,
Like streaks on a maiden's hair.
Time stands still,
I wish you were here.