The Warm Friend

He would visit the wharf of the pond very often Peace and joy writ large on his lips and eyes He would whistle a tune to call the shoal of fish From inside the water as well as from his heart The clouds got intimate with the flirting sunlight Like a comfortable poem the shoals appeared In three or four groups they would come up to He would look like gleefully chatting with them In wonder would look on the tales in the reeds Shadows of tall palms played hide and seek He would feed them as if they were his children Sometimes he just talked on with no motivation Their movement would raise ripples in the pond Inside would pulsate an impressionist painting The euphoria in water would erase and redraw Clouds in loud colours would go down the water And would watch in wonder the blue rendezvous He shed the foliage of his unquenched passion Into the mother water that with a purple comfort Would convert them in the lotus of his heartbeat Country folks remarked he must have been a fish In his previous birth in a very deep pool or lake No, others would say, an angel accompanied him In his surreal bridge of love for the water and soil The mahogany at the roadside would smile a little He would write so well his poem inside the water Where human and piscine tongues would meet Time halted a while in the warm breasts of geese As the sessions came to an end he would depart Sweet and salty sweat-drops would wet his shirt _______________________________________ 14 March 2017