Kawakawa in a pine tree forest

I am surrounded by pine trees and rata. It’s like I have been here before but this time there is more moss and less ferns. The trees, their kawakawa leaves are so delicate; so delicate they began to fall. A leaf flutters onto my hair. I hold it to my hand and for a moment, it is perfect.

Then it catches fire.

The fire spreads to the forest floor, to the roots, through the trees. I dance in circles of panic. I feel like one of the fireflies. My spinning increases and the trees grow loud. They are burning, almost ash. I do not listen. I am chasing the curvature of a perfect circle. I want you to see me spin.

But I am not on fire.

I am a firefly.

A leaf lands on my shoulder and I blink back to my body.

You are there, as you have always been, looking at me between sips of your coffee. There is no fire. We are in the courtyard of Baobab Cafe.

I try to shake off the vision but my silence still lingers. I try to focus on your voice. But your voice only adds to the music.