Okinawa's song

Red hibiscus wave in hot breezes
On a canvas of sky, too blue for my eyes.
Lion-dogs guard red-tiled roofs
Children bounce a ball on concrete streets.
Pungent smells change minute to minute
Pig droppings then soba noodles
overtaken by thick salt air.
A weathered man and child shift along,
pulling seaweed from dry coral flats
As low tide pushes quiet waves onto sharp reefs.
The music of the island, a timeless pulse.
To hear it's song, stop the monotonous grindstone.
Don't speak, Don't move, listen with every bone.
The rhythm of life speaks in this place.
Hibiscus flowers whisper, children laugh,
Seaweed rustles in wrinkled brown hands,
Soft waves lull the giant reefs to sleep.