AMIHAN

Amihan is a wind. I addressed Amihan as a lady here.

 Deeper, in more meaningful conclusion

The night in Widango

Crawled on his hands and feet

While the sad, sad Amihan

Left the places where I trod

A faint sweet taste

Delightful to the tongue

Mercy to the eyes.

 

The leaves of the old acacia

Dance in mimicry of the wood-nymphs

But dance as they may,

The night still stood gray.

The stars shift.

The Moon watched.

But Amihan, laughing in the bamboos,

Still could not lift a smile on my face.

 

Morning came in Widango, the wind is still

Dawn shed her crest of gold

Spilling lemons and oranges and apples.

Amihan murmured a sweet word to my ear

I listened not

I heeded not

For bright, as the dawn may be, her words of consolation

Still my eyes wet.

 

Hush… shush… shush…

I walked upon the now-limp acacia leaves

I looked up and Amihan sang

Upon the bent branches in an uncorrected note

She left a token

She left a piece

That even in the gray sky, even in the silence of the clouds

She may still be with me.

 

Deeper, in more meaningful conclusion

The night in Widango

Crawled on his hands and feet

While the sad, sad Amihan

Left the places where I trod

A faint sweet taste

Delightful to the tongue

Mercy to the eyes.

Reviews

[Helena]

Oh so beautifully done. I enjoyed this very much. Well written, imagery simply
amazing. Thank you for submitting this to Tovli's Ten Contest ~ Helena

[angelina neves]

"The night in Widango/ Crawled on his hands and feet" - i love this image! beautiful!