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sally-a-bayanPoems
Friday Night Symphony The light shower has stopped tip-tapping Upon the blue-colored roof of the veranda... Suddenly, a cloak of darkness prevails... The moist coolness of the air gives A refreshing feel this particular evening. Two frogs are throwing croaks at each other... One would quickly reply to the other's croaking Within seconds... it seems They are engaged in a conversation, While above us, the roof creaks as The green-eyed stray cat slowly walks... By its measured footfalls, it is obvious It is lurking in the dark, Carefully waiting for the right moment To grab its prey, The one with the careless, scratching footfalls... The crickets are having a grand time Singing their monotonous song... Across the street stands a big mango tree, where A gecko is nestled on one of its branches, Making its night calls repeatedly... Could this be their mating season? For This particular night, it calls fervently, scaring The night vendors selling "balut," Or freshly boiled duck eggs, The home-bound residents hesitate, More frightened now, As they pass through the vacant lot... All these are happening, while distant stars Spread glitter over a vast sky As blue as indigo, And an ivory crescent moon Hangs suspended... My delightful mug of coffee is steaming While I am stargazing, To a unique symphony i am listening, This Friday night of a week ending... Sally Copyright 2014 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
FRIDAY NIGHT SYMPHONY
Friday Night Symphony The light shower has stopped tip-tapping Upon the blue-colored roof of the veranda... Suddenly, a cloak of darkness prevails... The moist coolness of the air gives A refreshing feel this particular evening. Two frogs are throwing croaks at each other... One would quickly reply to the other's croaking Within seconds... it seems They are engaged in a conversation, While above us, the roof creaks as The green-eyed stray cat slowly walks... By its measured footfalls, it is obvious It is lurking in the dark, Carefully waiting for the right moment To grab its prey, The one with the careless, scratching footfalls... The crickets are having a grand time Singing their monotonous song... Across the street stands a big mango tree, where A gecko is nestled on one of its branches, Making its night calls repeatedly... Could this be their mating season? For This particular night, it calls fervently, scaring The night vendors selling "balut," Or freshly boiled duck eggs, The home-bound residents hesitate, More frightened now, As they pass through the vacant lot... All these are happening, while distant stars Spread glitter over a vast sky As blue as indigo, And an ivory crescent moon Hangs suspended... My delightful mug of coffee is steaming While I am stargazing, To a unique symphony i am listening, This Friday night of a week ending... Sally Copyright 2014 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Our old folks claim "Balut," or boiled duck eggs, provide more nutrients, strength for those who work the graveyard shilft, and those who easily get sick. In my country, it is sold by vendors starting at late afternoons extending to late evenings.
sally-a-bayan
Written by
sally-a-bayan
F/Filipino
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
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