3:40 pm

Heat stings. But somewhere southwest, large rain clouds are forming.

Perhaps it is difficult to get to know flora and fauna, to start and build a relationship with them without naming them and getting to know them better. Biology and its branches is the conversation, satisfies our desire to know the story of those around us who dont speak our language. That is why Thoreau and Dillard cared about biology, not just poetry. It was as if through biology, they were able to get to know their subject matter closer and thus flow poetry about them more easily.

The sound if the palm leaves shaking is like water falling.

The view of the creek from above the neverending bridge is neverending beauty. It there ever is a curator of rocks, then this was curated. At 4 pm, the rocks are photographic. The light that pierces the canopy of trees touches the rocks gently. And the water sparkles from afar.

The water flows fast along the rocks. A mini rapids. Then its vigor lessens as it reaches the part of the creek, below the bridge itself, which is deeper, rockless. Here the waters rest. As if it was home.

Occassionally, the water crumples. Either something from above falls or something from below moves. Whatever falls I do not see. Whatever moves below will be mystery.

Everything is silent if not for the birds that pass by. Also invisible above the trees.

This kapok is unlike the cotton i use at home. Silky. It feels like one of the comforters I used in Baguio. The seed around which it is wrapped feels like a dried corn seed. It looks like it. A dark brown one. It takes on the smell of whatever it lands into. Now that I held it in my hand, they smell the same. I remember Doji’s fur with it. It looks like it. As if someone cut the hair of one big doji from heaven and fell down from the sky (tell it this way: state an observation about kapok, say Doji’s story first then reveal the metaphor about the big Doji in the sky).

Some red bugs are attracted to a certain small plant that looks like a clover. Actually they are orange bugs. The ones I saw over the clover-like plants are infants. They grow large. They look like orange versions of that insect that stings strongly back at Pangasinan. These bugs come together under the leaves of these small plants.

From here towards irri housing, the creek can be heard but difficultly seen. The leaves are thick. But it flows strongly, you can hear it.

bawat dahong namamaalam

An unknown bird flies by and vanishes behind a tree

And then I heard sonic roaring A thin sheet of cloud A white line traversing the sky

The unknown bird

What if I spend the entire day just looking at the sky? And wait till night ensues and stars replace clouds.

Cicada defeaning siren A black dog barks at me Wind on my face Night weaves me a mask of darkness with no eyes