The Night In The Mountains Of My Birth Poem by RIC BASTASA

the usual day here
starts with the songs of birds
waking us up

and then we continue
what we do
gazing and lazy with
what this paradise
is giving us

fresh air is not a bowl
clear skies is not a just a roof
white sandy beaches at the other
end of this open window
chants with the swaying fronds

outside the children are beginning
to play
chasing goats and chickens
jumping and running
to the vibrancy of life

there is no hurry for life here
one is confident about what is enough
cooking potatoes
and roasting young chickens
and fresh vegetables from the farm
serve as salad on the table


the night ends with a handful of stars
and a saucer moon
and then the silence of contentment
where love fills the night
upon those sleepy eyes.