I watch the mangrove’s dance in the dark,
Graceful hands of green, wax leaves, feet of rough gray bark.
I hear the waves beneath them, play a merry, rippled tune.
It was written on the night sky, by the white stars and the moon.
I smell the jasmine floating perfume, hear night-purple flowers call,
Walk with flickering mists of stars, and watch the fire flies fall.
I wander deep in shadowed jungles, under silver-blue moonbeams,
And, caress the hearts of pink hibiscus, swimming in their dreams.
The Gods of Earth are singing songs. They ring out from afar.
They cross the mangrove sheltered night, and reach me on my star.
They call me to the forest, where the shadowed leaves were born,
They sing like mellow music from a silver, sea-shell horn.
They call me to the whispering trees, to where the moon rides low,
Across the midnight jungle, lit by the moon flower’s glow,
The echoes ricochet back, from the swollen, rising moon,
To reach me, in my jungle dream, or writing sea-sand rune.
Drifting in the river’s mist, through ‘glades perfumed and mellow,
Drifting, everywhere, entranced, I’m a marionette of the moonbeam’s shine.
I am dancing with the far flung stars, and I’m drunk on moonlight wine.