Twenty Spurts From Pohutu

A shoot of water towers in the air,
a spray of mist clouds the sky.
A constant splashing,
a constant spray
A beige giraffe with yellow spots,
a grey hippo with a river on its back.
The warm water hits my face,
a gift from mother nature.
The peacemaker has come,
a bow of light twisted and bent,
connecting the home of the pressured
to the land of the people.
The tower looks upwards,
it looks at the fairy floss above.
It twists and turns,
and it reaches their friends.
A deep breath of hot air,
a hint of sulphur,
gives me the joy
of a special day.