ISLAND POETRY

A Contented Sloth

Where isolation is my home

A man faced down in the sand. Photo by Mark Tulin

I live on a deserted island
surrounded by an ocean
blanketed by white clouds
and far from civilization

Sometimes, when I get bored
I float on a raft
and drift around the island
thinking only about
living day to day
making my existence
simple — yet empty
like a Buddhist
deep in meditation

I am the Henry David Thoreau
of the South Pacific
surrounded by the flora and fauna
of nature — independent
and responsible for my sustenance

The weather is tranquil
and the sea is choppy
with intervals
of sunshine and darkness
and when the winds pick up
the sand burns my eyes —
a minor annoyance
in an island of comfort