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.