Weeks pass, the eternal summer of the tropics mending
illness and injury, cooling the mind, warming the soul.
The house woman decides to stay away a little longer,
the forgetting of
times and dates.
Work presents itself, friends offer frolic, ancient jungle
rhythms mingle with the dailies, the sounds of the language
softening her mind’s workings.
Rain comes, then leaves, always at the right time.
Never too much, just enough to wash away the
dusty thoughts cluttering moments.
The perspective provided lends to balance and sanity,
allowing . . . . . . . . . . . space. . . . .
… as with brilliant art or great jazz …
creates the other half of the whole.
Within her heart comes peace, a sense of the allness,
the rightness of everything.
Questions subside for now, and there is only being.