reading under the sea on a monsoon afternoon

i look up from the book and i’m in a sea

of viridian clarity that fills all the space around me

from the ground right up to the grey rolling clouds

a soft damp surface seen from beneath

i’m on a bund between a fish pond 
dried out for maintenance and a paddy field 
long ago harvested, with cows grazing 
in the dry standing hay at the bottom

and with his clothes swirling about him

the man who brought them

stands gazing away

the wind buffets me in waves

and the bamboo clump moves slow-mo

like kelp or seaweed

and the wind in its leaves

sounds like the sea