Tropical God

Tropical God Filled ice caverns, barren arctic whisperings Empty hollow frozen wind, no sound within, no call for God No need for that when cold sets in against the raw vicinity Animals, man, vacated, absent, vacant cases of humanity, closed Old snow is everywhere just standing cold Escape to the heat where tropics burn the soul No where else to go to find sweet fruit, reality and sleep Hot sand, calm surf and scorching sun rains down Colors come in red clay, sky blue and clouds of white Soft palms sway with prayer solemnity to reach the sea Yellow flames frame the happy mellow landscape sands Pagan nature stands guarded against complacency Normalcy reigns supreme, pink dresses, blessings Tongues lick salt but it stays dry Lemons drown in beverages Harsh to the taste and sober Thoughts roll over, run with the tide Tropics conjure up a God