What's that coconut tree thinking? A glide...

'What is she thinking?
This cool calm morn?
Her leafy green
Hanging down
As if she had become an ascetic?
Thinking hard..
Sleepy deep...'
he thought
Looking at her
State of being
A tree tall
Green
Absolut;

And then
A light mild breeze came
Carrying a sense
Of the famous Backwaters...

A boat moving noiseless...
And lots of tall half bent coconut trees
As if shadowing the whole place
With their love of the cool...
And
A boat just gliding smooth...
And a song...
Slowly generating...
A boatsong...
A boatman's wandering soul filled lust-
Like one writeup-
'Little do I last...'

A song emanating
As it should...
As it must...