Getting There

The coconut rolled around a straight jagged cliff,

a smooth valley trail atop an island adrift in a salt-briney sea

clouded in clear skies,

the sun cleared a passage of coconuts before my eyes.

Mindfully bound, by folly I’d found a land of mermen

amidst sunburned seas.

Twirling coral at the Festival of High Tide

companioned the floutists’ song in the brine.

I danced adorned in the weeds of the sea. Scales I grew,

amongst other things.

I reflected the gaze of the eerie fish eye

as transient beings illuminated the sky.

As the shoreline crept back and the festivities faded,

another transformation awaited.

Marching the sands of powdered fire,

clawed combatants defend their empire:

Right-left! Right-left! Right in time I did stay

and they marched me clear to the start

of Coco-Isle Trail that way.