Island Music

The sound of the conch-shell coming from the sea, then the beat of the drums imitating the reef. Waves thundering when they hit the boulders, hissing menacingly as they creep through the channel shoulders. As the sea awakens when the tide comes in, the wind responses by fanning the harmony of sounds towards the isle ancticipatingly. The tall coconut trees are the first point of impact breaking down the hissing wind into melodius thunderclaps. The silent thumbing of nuts in union with sharp-sounding cracks. Retaliating with the unceasing chatter of the fluttering leaves in contact. The sound filtering down the hut where she sleeps, caressing her face and teasing her dreams. Even in deep stupor she begins to move in rhythm, to the call of the siren of the sea. Moaning gently with hips swaying in their own way, her hands gracefully carving routes on butterfly raids. First the breeze then the fanning of sweet murmurings in cascading flow, swift then controlled like drops of rain. Sinews outstretched before the conductor in refrain, the wand came down and the reef opened up, to receive the crashing of the angry waves. She awakens to find him at sea, blowing the conch-shell. She hears his calls then the waves, the drums and the palm bells. Moaning softly, beyond her control swaying with the rhythm innate in her. The music of the islands begins again.