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Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Tale of the tamarind tree

The tamarind tree
and the old woman, make an
aged couple who look alike,
rough skin, deep roots
thin branches devoid of fruit
with wooden knots and varicosities

In the little shade
the tamarind tree can provide
she knits silently
with her needles and weak eyes,
courses and wales like
the vagaries of life

once even they were children
who played with pebbles
and recited rhymes with
the birds and wind,
they became soulmates
with their first tamarind

and the tamarind tree heard patiently
her infant fantasies
her first love
her first moan
her furtive affairs
no one else could have known

later they discussed
marriages and funerals
and with the little wisdom
that they could gather
they shared the secrets of their
wrinkles together

Now that they are
grumpy and old
the tamarind tree
wishes their story be told
from a flute crafted
of its branch

and their duet when
sung in the evening hour
on the melody of the woodwind
would leave a taste
like their first tamarind
a little sweet, a little sour