pair a dice
loose cotton trousers
a shade or two darker than the sand
bare feet
both rough and soft
the breeze stirs palm fronds
and they speak the voice of every afternoon
an elephant on the beach
shakes his head, ears flapping
children, barely clad, swirl in eddies behind
laughing, dusty, like crickets
in the dry brush on barren hills
i follow
and the elephant climbs through an open window
welcoming
with deep eyes
his trunk tickles my palm
the schoolroom has no walls
and the wind stirs the palm fronds
propped on sticks again
she sits within and without
neither old nor young
a book open in her hand
and eyes lost on an endless horizon
she is all gaunt sharp angles
her skin polished teak
smoky hair tied back with a severe thong
she sees me with eyes both tired and kind
i sit at her feet in the sand and whisper
“But I don’t even know what to ask.”
--Robert Weeks
