Between The Oleander And The Palm

I watch the soft summer rain dance upon the palms of this southern day.

The humidity squeezes the lungs as on oleander blossoms hummingbirds’ play.

Thunder rumbles in the distance; storm clouds rise above the sea.

I see an old black man on a bicycle pass my window carrying sugarcane.

Shadows of a peeping sun danced upon his furrowed time worn brow.

I watched him fade into the vegetation and then reappear somehow.

With the cane still strapped to his back, he turned and to my window he faced.

The look in his eyes was haunting as he starred at me and me at him.

The sun winked again and in full sunshine it began once more to rain.

He twinkled at me and with a crooked little smile peddled his bike away.

I watched in silent ponderous thought between oleanders, palms and the misting rain.

Who was this man who carried cane? What did he want, what was the message he was to bring?

Should I ponder more to this odd day? Yes, I think I shall as I will always will remember the old black man, the bicycle and the sugarcane.

J. Allen Wilson © 7/13/2010