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Tuesday, November 11, 2014

on the mountain

morning comes slow
on the mountain

the light creeps through
the canopy gently
parting the palm fronds
with careful fingers
as if to give
a quiet warning alarm first
before the real wake-up call
and then a snooze option too

the night voices speak and fade away
huge gecko's, rasping
rustling, chirping jungle sounds
of unknown creatures
whose life is lived in the shadows

and on the floor, small black mounds
that tell me
the house is haunted

except that papa steps in it
and mutters to himself
on his way to the coffee machine

morning comes slow
on the mountain