white sand crunches as i walk
deserted beach of bamboo huts
it is quiet except for crabs scuttling
under wooden boats, painted bright
i relish the lazy morning blue
a vacation to my birthplace, and family
reunion to honor a matriarch's 80th birthday
an opportune time to spend the last days of 1999
before the clock starts the countdown,
before the papers on my desk pile high,
before days become four seasons and cold,
before nights turn purple and restless,
i amble along the sandbar, white and empty
just like the coconut thatched rooms, bare
essentials, yet I have what I need: scenic views,
dad's funny tales, mom's stories, enough to fill pages
of children's books we never got to read,
not even the millennium bugs in the narrow beds
bothered me, because the end of the world is coming, they said,
so I listen instead to the rolling waves in my sleep
soothing like the water rustling under the river slats, as
fish catch from the sea becomes our dinner or lunch, fresh
just fire, and leaves for aroma, and tropical fruits
even the goats and dogs join in for the feast,
like the two European bikers, with their backpacks,
eating with eager hands, while drying clothes in the sun
reaching to sample the simple joys of life in the road,
embracing the sun and wind in their travels, pulse
of the sea and land on sun-hued cheeks,
reconnected, refresh, beginning not ending,
i walk back to the wooden boat waiting for me.
Posted for D'verse Poets Pub: Poetics: 1999 : Sharing a wonderful memory of this vacation. I had to include the sea food as until now my sons remember the fresh taste of this catch. Thanks for the visit.
Picture credit: here
