Whispering Palms

Under the stern, watchful superintendence Of whispering palms on the white sand coast Where a thousand strong bow to the breeze And thousands more swing to the beat Giriama dancers caress their kayambas With bared breasts teasing the gathering With bared chests beating the drums Enhanced buttocks mesmerizing the palms And semi-nude tourists wondering aloud How this state of undress survived it all. The waters of the ocean had receded To eat grass, those in the know said And would return in an hour or two The sun had climbed above our heads Fiercely defending its lofty position As the coast dancers in seeming ease Perhaps unafraid of the damning rays Defied the heat in typical fashion And dared the eager, curious visitors To shake a leg, or break it trying!