For Joline
Remaining raindrops glisten like crystal beads on banana leaves; the sparkel of stillness and sweet morning. A gecko laps with a quick tiny tongue as the sun steams the drops gently into warm air to heat the day. A Cardinal sits in the bottle brush tree whistling for his mate; blood red as the blossoms that disguise him and relentless in his loud pursuit of love The fiddlehead of a hapu fern is balled like a fist, ready to strike out in it's unfurling. Hibiscus pistols reach to brush bright yellow dust on anything that passes by and a chameleon in the bougainvillea snaps away the life of a fly. The shy Japanese White Eyes hang upside down to peck the seeds of the saw grass strands and seam to enjoy the ride as they swing in the morning breeze. This wind is a gentle, salty waft up from the sea caressing the hillside and carrying the scent of roasting coffee beans and ginger blossoms. The doves' incessant cooing frames it all in sound. Growth, passion and hunger seethe. Life and death feed each other and the earth. energy and matter have their lusty intercourse in the tropical garden. The leaves shake last night's rain down upon my head when I brush by too rapidly on the path. It reminds me how desires drive so fast that they can blur the trees. The distant drone of traffic overwhelms the cooing, for a moment and I am annoyed at being damp. Then the palm fronds rattle and I here the garden speak "Do not forget" the foliage cries"the deep moist meaning of being born"
