Dunedin was usual enough poem

Here's my poem from the model the town was usual enough:

The town was usual enough: it had

A creek, a bridge, a beach, a sky

Over it, and even a small tin church

I never went to. My brother, my cousins and I

Did what boys do - dozed in the hot

Schoolroom, made bows and arrows, dodged the mad

Boatbuilder, crept like rabbits through the black

Under-runners with a weak torch,

Burnt dry rushes, wrestled or swam

Doing nothing important.

James K. Baxter