Letter to architect John Scott on the occasion of the reroofing of Futuna Chapel

I
John, your tribe of ducks
is soon enough back
on the adjacent lawn
    as though they never left – single-file,

a project-managerial air
about them, asserting a kinship
with your chapel
    in the brightness of its plumage,
the fresh weave of its roofing.

An albatross, a swan…
‘Can’t you see,’ asked a small boy
called Blessing, ‘the wings of this,
our great, diving bird?’ We were standing

outside the chapel of Futuna
   where, last visit, the tilers
were themselves scattered like birds on the roof
    and the building wrapped
in fabric whiteness. Scholars lost
in their signatures, these quiet,
concentrated roofers
following the contours
    of their ceramic sky.



It was nothing I have ever seen –
the enshrouded air
with its walkways, platforms,
    trapdoors, the deftly engineered sunrise
    in its far room. And a chair,
always a chair,
placed for the morning light. That is where
we best remember you, John.

Or up here
    in the middle air
all of us above our station,
next level, heart flutter,
looking down on ourselves.



II
Sky-adjusted, weather-attended
this bird-scaffolding or cage
    with its cloud congregation
and the Wellington wind which is never without
    an opinion. Such ...