After a sudden rain, dew drunkens trees like rum;
now the blotched air, the pirouettes of dust.
The offended rooster roils his body, stands
still to observe the watery ingress of sun
in the green yard, the freshening Calendula
flowers fall from their damp siege.
Down in his private valley, the leviathan Saman
resets his ancient clockwork.
A Golden Tegu lizard shines in the stung grass,
like a prized walking cane. Quietly,
the Flamboyant adjusts her red wig,
giant bromeliads like hair pins.
In this first silence, electric wires buzz― the world’s
plastic memory of the sky-born sea.
Unrepentant sky. The proud Caimete shivers
at each fresh monsoon of your wrath,
even the Immortelle, that demigoddess,
extends her arms in supplication.
Now, as you make your toilette, powder puff clouds
shake off talcum-white light.
The day, the earth of stunned worshippers,
bathes in your glow.
The poem above originally appeared in The Caribbean Writer, volume 26, published in 2012 by the University of the Virgin Islands, and edited by Crucian author and educator Alscess Lewis-Brown. This work is the intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved.