Rustic Town Poem by RIC BASTASA

the dust from the road
this summer coats the leaves of
mahogany trees
looking more like snow
for the soil here is off white
like the gleam of pearls

when it rains hard
the whiteness of the soil
is smooth like
a porcelain jar from faraway
Osaka

nothing is fast like a gazelle
gently events unfold like a slow motion film
where you savor each sequence of
a story
told by an old woman
her head turbaned by her self-woven
cloth
passed to her by so many
generations

at night the cicadas have become so silent
just a while ago before the curtains of the day
are folded into sheets
of forgetting
the cicadas have engaged themselves
in symphony of songs

then we witness the coming of fireflies
adorning the crowns of trees
as though someone queenly is coming
to grace a night of stars