Drenched rocks laced with slick green;
little rivulets of gem water
flowing, forming swells in blushing sand.
Then fine white and aqua, an enclave between
deeper pools, their palms beckoning the sun,
holding it, mottling the surface.
As I wade along the shore, a woman steps
in my sight, bronze skin dark
among the surrounding pale forms
Her hair is like corn silk, grey and rushing;
I cannot see a face.
A being of such lightness is a rarity
this must be why travelers are welcome,
always bathed and rested.
Because who knows which deities
walk among men?