When I last visited Gore, in summer at the beginning of this year - which actually seems like a long, long time ago now - I took the above photos of the purple roses they have in the Gardens there.
purple roses of Gore
I lived in Gore back when Flemings Oat Mill
made porridge, not pet food
and the middle car parks hadn't been replaced
with hanging flower baskets and a concrete sheep
and the old library
with its round, brick walls was still the old library
and not an art gallery.
Gore has always had points of interest;
streets named after rivers,
a hundred-year old ponderosa pine,
an aviary with a kea and a peacock.
Gore has two theatres and rugby-coach farmers
with heavy fists getting out of dusty utes to punch
in the number of their parking bay.
It has purple roses.
Kay McKenzie Cooke