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Aburi, A Haven

I walk through the road of centinal
Palm trees giving shade from the kindle
Of the noon sun, creating shade where only sun lit.

I look upon their majestic trunks
As elegant as a giraffe’s
Reaching into the sky, touching the heavens.

Once you reach the road’s end,
The vista of greens will land
You in a mirage of breathtaking scenes.

A short walk and you’ll reach
Boti Falls, distinguished with two chutes that leach
Into a large aquamarine pond that sizzles

With the force of the downpour,
And hides a cavern behind its ominous core,
That provides electricity and life to all nature.

Moving past such wonder,
You see man’s touch in greater
Spans of space, where a decrepit helicopter

Lies as stage for tourists and the picnickers
To look upon an antique object of wars,
Used to help beautify what’s already astounding.

I watch the centinals in my rearview mirror,
Wondering at my next visit to such a conqueror
Of beauty and memories of times yonder.

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Flowers for Moi!

Me, myself, and I

Received these beauties!

The colors are rejuvenating,

The smell is precious,

The thought, sender, is stupendous.

A flower has the power

Never to cower

But to spread its petals, languorous.

Its infinite patience glamorous.

Its fragility’s nothing short of faithful,

Its colors vibrant and bashful,

While its scent lodges in your mind.

Knowing memories are easier to find.

Creating and sending such a bunch

Is always a thoughtful hunch.

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Temple of Love

As love grows from a foundation
Of beauty,  my gaze is in contrition
For those who live devoid of love.
Leave, like, live, lively, longing to love …

As each child, man, and woman need a hive
To promote, programing all with reverence.
A need to bathe in the certitude of being
Cocooned and cherished for just existing.

With each caress, word, gaze, request,
You’re inundated with warmth that’s best
Given in daily doses, so as not to fall
Into depression that’ll turn you into a ball.

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Sunset in Tonga

I came across this picture while trying to find out the location of Tonga since it has opened its borders to all refugees. What a humane act from an Island state! Hope others follow in their footsteps!

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March …. Alive

March is the cruelest month,

It teeters between ice and fall in cloth.

A wintry storm blows snow all day long,

The next, the sun peaks its head warm with a song.

The chirps, tweets, and warbles of the floks

Stuns with its humming personality that blocks

The rising warmth from becoming too hot.

The northern cardinal brightens our shores

All year long, while Blue Jay may scores

His flight onto our lands for a while and snores.

Enjoy the beauty of the cruelest month,

It’s variety, vascillatory nature, and the birth

Of life that it entails is vital to be conserved.

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Beauty, stress, and natural disaster

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Hope’s Constellation

The summer sky’s shades are all vibrant, Going from baby blue to azure to royal blue

Changing on the whim of the weather that can’t

Decide which blue suits it utmost:

Dark and depressing, or cheery and frisky?

Mainly, all are moody and try you out for a test:

Of whether its moods become yours or do you heartily

Overcome the sky’s emotional breath?

Gazing dreamily into the sky’s constellations

On a summery night, fills your breast with

Wishes and desires that abound in intentions

Of freedom to roam among them, freeing your breath.

The Constellations’ Devine joy is in being constant,

True, and unwavering attestation to God’s will:

That surmises the need for unchanged candescent

Brilliance that brings hope and faith that spill from the quill.