Now the sun seeps through the clouds
the breeze rustles the leaves –
mimosa, banana, papaya and coconut palm,
freeing last night’s rain – liquid light
suspended, then falling,
as all eventually falls.
Birds whose names I don’t know
sings songs as old as memory,
as fresh as this new day;
and children walk,
by ones and twos,
through this shimmering song of life
as naturally as the singing birds
or the falling drops of light.
I sit on the terrace, recalling
songs beyond memory and rising light.