Panay

a poem by Roger B Rueda

The wind whispers by like someone’s trying
to tell you a secret.
The clouds in the western sky
are lit brightly on their undersides
like the yellowy-silver bellies of fish,
and overhead some stars are out.
A small breeze seems to come right up
of the ground, stirring the tree branches
in every direction.
Bananas, mangoes, coconuts, & leads,
grow left and right like a could forest,
hiking to find your way out.
Along the road the cornfields lie newly
flayed, mile after mile, their green skin
pulled back to reveal Iloilo’s flesh
of orange velvet dirt.
Cicadas scream brightly from the thorn scrub.
Mayas working like crazy building
their nest for their young.
Some children pick up a rock and throw
it through the centre of a tree, raising
a small commotion of brown feathers.
They immediately settle again.
Seeing ants, quails, tiwis, cranes,
gathering food for the rainy days.
Having the time of your life playing
in the Magapa and Suague rivers.
Boats in Boracay shoot by
like a singgálong chasing its prey.
Skiing down the bumpy rough slopes
of Iday, Salihid, and Napulak.
Seeing the wonderful sights of Panay.