The moon
This season our backyard coconuts
Hid it under their swinging fronds
Behind our asbestos-sheeted shack,
Its presence marked by the pale shadow
Of our cow swishing tail on the insects
In the backyard?s lonely darkness.
The cow looked in the water...
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The moon
This season our backyard coconuts
Hid it under their swinging fronds
Behind our asbestos-sheeted shack,
Its presence marked by the pale shadow
Of our cow swishing tail on the insects
In the backyard?s lonely darkness.
The cow looked in the water trough
Giving out a low plaintive moan.
Her eyes shone through the night
As the rope of the pail seemed to move.
Actually it was a mere water snake
That had made the well its home.
Our hibiscus stood mute by the well;
Its flowers went gray by the moonlight.
Tiny flowers bloomed on the creeper
That had climbed our red-tiled roof.
Their fragrance filled the night air.
It was as though it was the moon
That smelled good in our backyard.
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