bali

life in the community

makes for the feast, 

together in Bali

women bake and weave

teak chairs rock
at the rhythm of a flute, 

wooden dragons are made
out of manly hands, 

as well as nudes.

the sarong is worn

the hats are on heads

the smiles are perennial

I will never forget

the sea comes and goes

there are bargains to have,

the travellers go home 

with the sound on their ears

of the multiple gongs

so far away

and yet so close, 

an island, 

the sea, 

the people,

monsoons.

the temples to admire

and for them to worship, 

the volcanoes to see

and for them to fear,

the dances to enjoy

and for them to train for, 

a week to relax

and for them 

the passing 

of a beautiful
and simple life.