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!
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