The rising sun was orange and black spotted as a leopard’s skin.
The contemplative ocean reflected back the first risen rays in shimmering brassy gold.
Ashore the Coconut palms clapped their long close leaves together
to make the sound of gentle raindrops.
This Palm tree so near our little bungalow on the
Rarotonga Island beach has
an enticing flower.
Hanging in a most moist
provocative manner
in hopeful golden bloom
attracting eyes and bees
turning heads and drawing
pollinators from all around.
Does within those blooms
lies the hope of being
a full juicy nut?
A milky luscious sought
after specimen of a coconut?
The rain even sets a picnic table of the blooms
But not even ants come to dine.
In time,, perhaps all too soon,
the blonde full buxomly,
luscious looking blooms
wither to dry wrinkled gray crisp strands
devoid of hope
and of so very limited potential
no coconuts?
Broken, brown, alone, withered?
Who choses not
from so much potential?
the winds? the pollinators?
The sun, the rain?
A lack of dreams, no goals?
The mother tree’s nurturing skills?
Love, luck, or lack of?
Is an unfruitful life
for better or for worse
Any more or less
than a withered stem
of hardened, weathered grey?
What purposes not fulfilled?
Absolutely Marvelous!!! What a devine poem/writing!! Loved it!!
Thank you Thank you Thank you
Wow! How thought-provoking and beautiful. You never cease to amaze me. You are so full of life, love, creativity, and spirit! So glad you survived the earthquake without a tsunami!!
I really appreciate you very kind words. Love and hugs