There's a steel drum playing loudly in the valley,
the tinks are infectious and lively
The shadows are rolling down the cliff with the breeze,
everything is right in the world we know to be true and sane
The thicket is dry and full of keawe thorns,
the bush is rustling with critters that show their fangs in the twilight hours
Our dogs are satisfied with the cool evening gentle wind gusts while the shores are still being lapped from the strong
Pacific currents
The day was difficult due to the heat,
when this happens we all suffer
The streams of sunlight dwindle and night settles in.
The night owls make their runs to town and back,
while the guard dog is chained and fast asleep
The night is long and only gives way to only the heat of the
mid-morning sun,
the birds chirp again
See!! The world is correct while we sleep, while we are active and while we breathe the Kona winds off the cold Pacific waters.
Nothing in life is just one event. It's merely the rhythm of life that occurs.
Slow country livin'
