Poem: Morning in St. Vincent & The Grenadines

Caribbean landscapes and rhythms loom lush
The anxious flap of an exotic bird’s wings
The sway and swing of a sister’s firm hips that
Stride familiar with steep hills and deep valleys
The splash of the sea on the shore’s volcanic rock
Beats out the three-quarter time.

An unclaimed yellow dog barks in thanksgiving at a discarded meal
The mooing of yonder tied-to-the-side-of-the-road cow,
Allows the rhythms to simmer and syncopate.

The wind tiptoes across the small waves of the sky-blue reflected waters
The subtle creak of coconut trees
The palm trees clapping their huge fanned leaves in what must be praise
Puffs of foliage like green paint-soaked sponges dabbed
onto a freshly blue-washed canvas.
Rich hues of orange, aqua, blue and neon green roofs
atop pastel and white houses scattered amid the hills and mountains
like squadrons of carnival-colored mushrooms and
textured paint splatters left by an artist
abruptly called away to a more urgent task.

Could there be more urgency than these Caribbean landscapes and rhythms command?

Tree-adorned mountains loom like giant watchmen
posted at the gates of Paradise.
The distant hills look like a weary giant lady dressed in parrot green accented with dried-brush beige
She lies on the ground to rest
Face tilted up and away at the sky
Knees bent and slightly parted, she welcomes the trade winds’ caress.
With intrinsic beauty she basks in the sun’s summer kisses.

Cars and trucks beep and accelerations strain to meet the hills’ demands
Like sound samples recorded in metropolitan places and patched onto the artist’s palette of Caribbean landscapes and rhythms that God
birthed into this morning in St. Vincent and the Grenadines.

© 2005, Stanice Anderson, Inspirational Speaker & Author of I Say A Prayer For Me: One Woman’s Life of Faith and Triumph, www.stanice.com