Palms sprinkled with white dust,
Stiffened in the frosted gaze if the sea.
Speckled mountains stand protective over miniature villages below.
New light strikes hidden ridges, cliffs tempting us to leap,
Meandering rivers flowing parallel to wandering tribes,
Hear the Parakeeps chirping, they don't have to hide,
Land so unfiltered, untamed by the norm,
Obscure now a pleasure, a rose with no thorns.