Tradewinds (Barbados)

It rained all night,
as if it would
wash the house away

down the gully to the sea.

Soon the bats couldn’t fly,
wings water logged
and the cup shaped palms

held up their leaves in joy.

Early morning trade winds,
jungle talks to itself
monkey’s spin along the fence.

Somewhere out beyond the reef,
is dreary London, I don’t miss it
could settle down with a dread locked beauty

do nothing on a sun flecked beach.

White parrots fly in
cumbersome in the uplift
poisoned trees along the shore

Pina colada on a darkened sea
the epiphany of solitude speaks;

and for once I listen.

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