By seven the fern is already holding a dimmer kind of sunrise. The kiwis have been issued tiny lanterns for their noses. Each bird greets the root first, nods to the nearest frond, and only then wishes the ground a single good morning.
We asked at the kiosk. "I nearly shouted hello at the canopy," said the man who sells warm currant buns. "Then a lantern dipped toward the soil, and the leaf nodded as if the earth had been waiting its turn."
The park keeper left a card by the pot: if the root has not been greeted, please do not start the day from the treetops. The next morning a neighbor came back with the same paper bag and waited through the greeting, the nod, and the one small wish. She said the path felt kinder underfoot, though it was the same path.