Poetry from Thailand

Original poetry written in and about rural Thailand.

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Location: Chong Khae, Nakhonsawan, Thailand

Friday, September 18, 2015

September Song





(Blue skies and Fleecy Clouds Come In September)

We’ve had tropical showers on and off.
I had to pick up the girls from school with
the step-through motorbike at three.  Beam
sits in front of me with her head bowed and
resting on her hands  looking forward
over the headlight much like a picture of a girl
at Christmas I remember looking out a window
at a robin freezing on the sill outside.  Boom sits
sidesaddle in back of me.

A half-hour before we had torrential rains,
but by the time I left and got back the roads
were gray dry.

At four the sky is black to the east, again.
I sip vodka and orange juice and wait for
the storm to rush over the lush, Thai land,
coming from Cambodia and Vietnam driving
hazy, low, gray black house-fire-looking clouds
ahead  and down.  Watching this is exhilarating
like watching a plane about to crash. The wind rises.

I sit in my orchid bower as the rain hits like
a gray cream pie in the face . . . whomp.
You can almost hear the “help me!” screams from
a skinny line of sorry looking banana trees while
low, leafy trees and bushes begin their jazzy busking
routine looking like Ethyl Merman belting out Bill
Bailey  next to a wall at the bottom of a long flight
of subway stairs. 

I run in but turn back in the open door to look.
It’s a Gettysburg out there, but I am safe.  I have
no expectations except this storm will pass. 
I am safe.

FG           9/17/2015

I can remember that Blue Skies song from when I was a kid in Goffstown and the expectations (new school year, Indian Summer, Winter, Spring) it brought with it.  I have no expectations here.  Maybe it is my age, maybe the weather maybe it’s both.

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