Birdsy Hill. Welcome sea, hills, Carriacou and surrounding islands; we welcome the breeze, the bawling sheep, the scent of the old billy ram goat; we welcome the rising pregnant moon, Grenville spread below like a toy town flexing by the sea; we welcome the ascent of beating hearts and slip sliding slippers on dry fallen leaves; we welcome the plum tree dripping fruit.
Step out onto Top Village road. Descend. Community. Youth man singing, bathing at the pipe; elder arms strung over back benches, feet up, good evenings and afternoons; black dog sleeping in the road, black dog barking on the road, black dog owner shouting, “hush your damn mouth;” kids chasing cricket balls, kids sitting on wall fences legs swinging, kids sucking mangos and plum; youth men working on old van; women eating plates of food from veranda.
Break out main road, Soubise. Cross over, cut through bush and mud step onto shoreline. Palm trees peering; mustard yellow seaweed curling up coastline; moon peering from lilac sky; lady bug red fishing boat; black dog Opi chasing birds; youth boys tossing shoes into air; fishermen pulling nets; hands waving from boat speeding by.
Main road. Long wall. Evening buses racing. Cook Hill. Yapping hollering wooping big mouth dogs. Top of last hill greet the sky turn night. Small shop gatherings. Community greetings. We do it all again. Tomorrow.