I hear the scary wind howling and blowing hard.
I see the seven stars twinkling in the sky.
I smell the cool breeze reminding me that winter is here.
I stretch out my arms to try and feel the stars.
I can taste the strong wind going in my mouth.
I can hear the waiata chiming.
I can feel the wairua flow in the atmosphere.
I smel the hangi drifting past my nose.
I touch the fearless carving as it stands with mana.
I taste a mussel fritter, and enjoy how it awakens my hungry stomach.
I can hear the water smashing against the rocks.
I can see people making different designs with flax.
I can smell chocolate cake cooking in the kitchen oven.
I can feel a work slithering down my leg.
I can taste the hangi tasty as can be.
I can hear laughter and the stones moving in the nearby stream.
I can smell the hangi while we set the table ready for a feast.
I can taste the hot kumara and delicious stuffing, a real treat for my tummy.
I can see the seven stars of matariki sparkling in the night sky.
I can see seven sparkling stars shining in the pitch black sky.
I can hear kids squabbling over who has the best kite this year.
I can smell sausages bubbling in the pot over the campfire.
I taste the hot squishy golden marshmallows.
I feel the hot milo warming my insides.
I see the seven shining stars at dawn.
I smell the delicious hangi cooking underground.
I hear the waves crashing against the shoreline.
I can taste the scrumptious kumara warm and delightful for my mouth.
I feel the heat of the bonfire warming my frosty hands.
I see twinkling stars above my head.
I hear the trees shiver in the cold breeze.
I smell the salt water in the air.
I feel the yellow sand squash in between my toes.
I taste the portions of yummy hangi in my mouth.
Matariki is here.
I see seven stars shimmering in the sky.
I hear the waves crashing and roaring against the innocent sand.
I smell the yummy pumpkin soup and wait with anticipation to eat it.
I feel the warmth of the burning fire, warming my frozen toes.
I taste the fried bread and soup soothing my cold and hungry tummy.
I see the seven lights sparkling through my bedroom window.
I hear the fire of the hangi burning.
I love the smell of kumara baking.
I feel cosy in the winter blanket.
I can taste the sweet marshmallows in my hot chocolate.
I see the seven stars ‘pleaides’, matariki – it’s all the same to me.
I smell marshmallows burning and bursting into flame giving off a disgusting smell…trust me.
I hear the soft whisper of little children wanting to go home, and not understanding the importance of why they are here.
I feel the warmth of the bonfire on my chest and the cold winter breeze on my back.
I can see the beautiful stars in the midnight blue sky.
I can hear everybody shout “Hooray, Wow, Happy New Year.”
I can taste the warm pumpkin soup and enjoy its flavour.
I can smell the kai cooking.
I can feel the cold wind blowing over me.
I hear the gentle laughter of happy people.
I see the twinkling stars of matariki shining bright in the black sky.
I smell the delivious aroma of hangi, boil up, and pumpkin soup.
I feel the icy breeze playing with my hair.
I taste the steaming pumpkin soup as it slides down my freezing cold throat.
I can feel the hot milo warming my hands through the mug.
I can taste the mushy marshmallows going down my throat.
I can hear the birds starting to chirp, letting us know that dawn is on its way.
I can see my dad and my uncles pulling the hangi out from under the ground.
Matariki is here.