Walking down the steep jungle hill
Trees stand tall barely covering
my back from the sun.
The smell of the pollen clouds my head
as birds sing loud and clear
the path is covered by long thin vines.
The trail intertwines within the trees
giving shade once in a while.
The machete becomes heavy from constant
use on the jungle wall

A colonial plantation lays in ruin in front of me
The overgrown structure has been engulfed
by thick green vines and luscious flowers.
Broken mosaic's and dead leaves litter
the deserted building's tilled floor.
Stairs descend down to a ceramic pond
full of dirt form the mountain above
I stand by myself holding a piece of the mosaic
wondering what it was like a hundred years ago.
The smell of the musty walls surround me
as images of children running up and down the stairs
run through my head.
Wild ass's run in between the empty buildings,
they are the new lords of the manor.


Further down the path
white and deformed mangrove trees,
burnt in previous fires,
stand tall and quite in the shallow lake.
Green growth pushes up through the springs floods
at the base of these old bony trees,
exposing new life to the world.
The beaches long and white invite
thoughts of pirates
we cut the path with the thought that
maybe we will find a treasure,
but we seem only to find the tourists
snorkeling and sun bathing on the quite St John beaches

06/06/2003

Posted on 06/06/2003
Copyright © 2025 Derek Gregory