Here in Paradise

Here in Paradise

Grind the beans,
make coffee.
Set it to cycle, while I 

glide down the red lava-rock driveway
to fetch the newspaper,
a morning ritual.

Shuffle, step, slide and move
a dance in rubber slippers,
answer to the rhythms of tabla drums. 

Breathe in this sweet morning air 
wearing soft cotton shirt and baggy shorts,
skin warms in the soft yellow light.

Tropical sun glows in and on
the trees of jungle,
veils geckos and mongoose, vines.

My stumble, flares into anger,
brightly, as “Ehle” the black cat
darts across my feet.

I’m not playing when
I yell “don’t do that!”
she flicks her tail, bounds off
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into the bramble. Hot and quick
a familiar wad of tightness,
squeezes the gut.

I’ve yet to make friends
with chaos, or of letting go.
Time to have coffee and feed the cat.

Author: Wendy Westlake

Photo: Thomas Lefebvre on Unsplash