Ships drifting on the horizon The smell of hay in the fields Birds flying high, touching the clouds A darkness fell upon the morning light The sounds of war echo in the past Through a whistling of bamboo swaying And the pelican jockeys for its domain Searing heat, the farmer harvests soybeans Feeding a people of a forgotten past Who can bring the birth of a nation to boot Kenvil Atkins, poet / for Caribbean Dreams poetry.