© Kristine Simelda
The leaden sea surges gently over the gallette,
And the big rock that guards the entrance to the bay
Is lost in a mist of time and rain.
The Frigates are on cruise control, wary of the weather.
And Dolphins come in close, hugging the shore.
A breeze comes up, and suddenly it begins to snow…
Flurries of Kapok blown from the mountain,
As the thick pink smell of a fresh Dorado’s blood
Mixes strangely with the delicate fragrance of Frangipani
And Mangoes slam down brutal, causing the roof to leak.
Then one long cloud rises from the horizon…
An omen of what’s to come.
And so we wait, prisoners of Summer Heat,
Sweet Mango running down our chins, our arms, our legs,
Assuring we will stick together, for a while.