I wonder… Do the trees sing in Africa at the tail end of the day, as the sun drifts to the west, dragging the light, the colour bleeding from the sky in its wake, causing such rejoicing from the branches? Does the African kingfisher wear a smart, shiny cobalt jacket, slung over his shoulders, catching the early morning light, just like his cousin in Yangon? Does the frangipani blossom peep shyly up towards the African sky, pleading for just a few drops of rain, in return promising to release their scent into the surrounding air? Does the water lean to the right when it slips downwards from an emptying washbowl just like it does further north on the other side of the equator ? Does it rain at four in the afternoon in Africa, flooding lanes, prompting laughter and annoyance in equal mix? I wonder… What language do the frogs speak in Africa? Would they understand their Burmese friends as they revel and splash in the mud? I wonder so much about this continent that I have yet to properly meet. And soon I will wonder no more. Yangon, June 2016
Monthly Archives: June 2016
Poetry Friday
This could be right here, right now …
Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer
“Walking in the Rain at Night”
Last night
the rain
spoke to me
slowly, saying,
what joy
to come falling
out of the brisk cloud,
to be happy again
in a new way
on the earth!
That’s what it said
as it dropped,
smelling of iron,
and vanished
like a dream of the ocean
into the branches
and the grass below.
Then it was over.
The sky cleared.
I was standing
under a tree.
The tree was a tree
with happy leaves,
and I was myself,
and there were stars in the sky
that were also themselves
at the moment
at which moment
my right hand
was holding my left hand
which was holding the tree
which was filled with stars
and the soft rain –
imagine! imagine!
the long and wondrous journeys
still to be ours.
~ Mary Oliver ~