The music's a
Muse
it conjures contemplation
it's bittersweet
as a grapefruit,
with a tinge of
sugarcane.
The percussions
back rhythms
are made for dancing
lulling all to their
feet
while the horns
are
mysterious
melancholy...
And these Caribbean sounds
awaken visions
of
maracas,
of turbaned women
sashaying on bare feet
and bongos
worked by the callused hands
of
mahogany men
and smiling faces,
sweat- sheened
gleaming as the reflection
of a tropical sun
on teal waters.
The women
sway,
their skirts move
like the fronds
of palms
ruffled by
a
sultry
breeze.