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Next Issue Peter Scupham at 85: a celebration Contributions by Anne Stevenson, Robert Wells, Peter Davidson, Lawrence Sail

This poem is taken from PN Review 37, Volume 10 Number 5, March - April 1984.

The Weather in Tohunga Crescent Allen Curnow

It becomes 'unnaturally' calm
the moment you wonder who's going
to be first to ask what's happened
to the wind when did we last see

or watch for it animate the
bunched long-bladed heads
of the ti tree and all the dials
fidget in the sky and then it did

and we breathed again? The moment
comes when the bay at the bottom
of the street has been glassy a moment
too long the wind is in a bag

with drowned kittens god knows
when that was and which of us
will be first to say funny what's happened?
And it won't be a silly question

when it's your turn in the usual
chair to stare up into the cloud-cover
...


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