Hiding from the sun's personal attack on my body
I shelter beneath singing birds
Who decorate the overhanging, pink, perfumed branches
Across the klong,
'The Rose Garden Guest House'-hand-written sign
In good English
Quietly beckons with its sub-tropical plants
In an array of unrelated plant pots
The birds serenade the empty guests' chairs
Of plastic blue and green
Barefoot toddlers exchange smiles and toys
In dappled sunlight
The trick is not to let the beads of sweat fall
On these pages.
Fresh pineapple chunks
Skewered by a wooden pick
Lay invitingly in their plastic bag
Cool, moist and tropical
There is no haste
Only the slow flow of the klong
Pace enough for this pen.
