à Geeta
The brown girl, golden, sable eyed,flourishing yellow hibiscus,steps exuberant, august,into August --her lushly brocaded gold silk sarilavishing honey light at her auburn feet,sandalled, cedarly,with scent of sandalwood haloing her,her individualized, warm, light-dark body,her every glance a direction of the air,her look of mischievous -- even tart -.- sweetness....O has she...?She hascome in from morning's slight autumnal chill,her feet moistened with diamantine dew -.-how the sea summers in grass(that same grass that rears at the sunwhile butterflies mob frangipani...).Behold her smile declaringwarm, sun-dyed, terracotta lips --that chance come home -.-and I answer,"You are light uplifting,liberating me from murk,from an inferno of squalor."O! Let there be rum and molasses,rice and mackerel, O Muse,the Indian Ocean softening and sweetening the Atlantic,this august autumn.All these pleasures we will prove:lotus like slow-motion lightning,ivory gold fountaining from earth,like you, a fresh light, sprung from earth.
