On Pāpāmoa Hills
A man starts up the path
And disappears
Around the bend.
His footsteps fade
As another approaches
A lady on her phone
An important conversation.
Two ladies behind her
Chatter loudly
Their problems discussed
And solutions offered.
An older man struggles
As he climbs the steps
With a look of concern
He sits for a while.
Good morning, Mōrena!
A subtle lift of the chin
Everyone says hello
On the Pāpāmoa Hills.
A couple of jiggling breasts
Sunglasses and a lovely smile
Down is easier than going up!
She says as she runs past.
A boy climbs the beacon
At the summit of the hill
While a couple sit on the only seat
To admire the coast and sea beyond.
The view stretches from
Tauranga to Whakatane
For as far as the eye can see
This is the beautiful Bay of Plenty.
A land with native trees
Rolling green pastures
And rickety wooden fences
Farmland gifted to its people.
But look for the signs
That explains the hill is an old site
A history that dates back
To when Māori lived on a Pa.
See the landmark Two Trees
Visible from Papamoa
As are the new tracks
That zig-zag across its belly.
Now with careful steps taken
Back down the steep path
Accidents are many
Where runners have fallen.
Below the noisy Quarry
Metal for our roads
Flat plains of cultivated fields
The kiwifruit orchards of Te Puke.
Toi toi on the hills
Native bush regenerating
Manuka, cabbage and flax trees
Line the meandering trail.
Where honey bees buzz
And Plague skink skitters
Black crickets chirp
And Piwakawaka birds flutter.
A lick of breeze
Before turning into
A solid wind
Cooling on sweaty skin.
Below there is the car park
Already it is full
A truck selling coffee
Children are running.
So everyone is out
All the families and friends
Connecting with familiar faces
Hugs and embraces.
Enjoying Pāpāmoa Hill
And its trail to the summit
It’s the best place to be
With all its nature and community.
