Shadows Of The Reeds

In a brown road of fences and walls vines leech
to sliding roofs as cocoa dances
to creaks that swing into orange beds
and fields when ‘very fine legs'
catch coconut drops on boundaries.
Palms flex long veiny fingers eager
to turn the season around
with showers over valleys and the ‘Three Sisters'
while ox carts wait to tunnel sugar cane
to market on rails by steam.
Incognito spurned, the Scarlet Ibis
buttons its carnival coat, tiptoes
the water's edge chopsticks in hand
searching crustaceans while tears from angels
fall and soothe like a benediction,
save for intermittent howls of demons
in the wind.