The palm trees

Under the palm trees

I sit

Just be there

as I could be anywhere else

 

But it’s different

It’s the heat, the mosquitos

the humidity

 

and the swaying green leaves

hanging over my head

half dancing a lullaby

half threatening me

 

Not sure how I ended up here

perhaps I’m not even supposed to…

 

But why all this beauty then?

What was it meant for?

The answer seems so evident now:

To. Be. Admired.

By me? I don’t know

But in this mood

even the mosquitos I revere

 

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Some lost forest

Vines were much smaller last time I came. The ground completely covered by moss leads to anyplace but vines. They hung from branches spread and do not dare to approch the moss, an old companion. Chants along the wind, their sorrow can be heard from below. Whether you understand, it depends on your attention, your antennas. Let me say they mutter very clear, and allow me yet one last warning; they might be quite susceptible. Ponder all this while you wander gathering dark blue and golden feathers round the trees. Do not hesitate nor glance, just listen willingly to the soaring vines dance.