The drums of the south
Pounding hard with pride
And strings of zebra tails
Would produce notes
And high tunes
As the natives danced
Up and down
Sideways
Around the fire

They brought my eyes
To feast on colors
Of bright canvasses
Bursting vividly
With dark strokes
And light spots

They made me march
Barefoot
On grape barrels
And tomatoes too
Squishing the juice
And producing syrups
Of putrid but sweet
Flavors of wine
And sauce
Of the Mediterranean soil

I marveled on the sight
Of sculptures
On wood and stone
Gods and goddesses
Stood in pace
Still figures
In frozen grace
Strong and exquisite
In complete forms
Of war faces
And grotesque clothes

A girl with dark skin
And pearly white teeth
Offered a drink
In bamboo cup
I thought it was juice
From ambrosia
It was honey water
The sweetest in the world

A gong’s sound echoed
Deep in the halls
Of a stone temple
The villagers ran
Inside huts
Then emerged
With fruits
On top of their heads
They raced to the forest
In winding buffalo paths
I followed

Fruits of the tropics
And fishes
Meat from hunt
Laden in baskets
And bamboo poles
Were laid on the floor
Facing the mountain
Where the god lived

The altar flames rose
Tendrils of fire
From torches
And oil lamps

The rituals
Of sacrifice
For their deity


They bowed low
They chanted
And painted their bodies
With mud and paint

They drank wine
And danced in a circle
Of a stone kept fire
In the stone temple

A trumpet of a beast
Of incredible strength
An elephant
Marched in
On its back was saddled
A man
And a woman
They were wed last night
And they rejoice
And danced
With their people

After a week
I was on a plane
Gazing on the canopies below
The continent
The heart of the world
Of cultures diverse
Simple ways
To enjoy life
And the wonders
Of this world