obi…

and the only sound
is the trickle of the stream
down the stones – no, wait
I hear – not far – fringes of
laughter around alien syllables
that charm and suggest –
and I think: the green here
is more declarative than any
yet seen in my travels
and the sunlight so mellow
not brash brazen yellow
infact it is almost pink
like the blush of the sash
‘round my hostess

.

.

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