Seine Bight Village Forecaster
By:: Clifford John Palacio
Facing the Caribbean Sea
Nati Hill’s thatched-roof house stands.
Softhearted, unique sage is he.
He is tall, strong, virile and stately,
And the look in his aging face,
Always sparkles, glistens with grace.
His hair is curly, gray and short.
His welcoming smile is like tonic.
His brow is wrinkled with deep thoughts;
And he discerns youthful frolic
As he watches the boys in play,
On the shinny white sands each day.
He goes every day to his farm at dawn
And quickly cleans a task or two.
He cuts willows, brings them to town,
And teaches young boys what to do.
They enjoy sitting at his feet,
Weaving they learn from one so meek.
From morn ‘til night, week in week out,
You can see him sitting, no doubt
Resting from weaving for so long
In front of his house on a log,
As he gazes into the sky,
Searching for a correct reply.
Toiling, counseling, forecasting,
Onward through life he journeys,
Each day sees some planning, toiling,
Like busy bees making honey.
Thanks to Nati Hill for his wisdom
Serving our quaint village kingdom.
He is a traditionalist,
An honored meteorologist,
Who provides weather forecast
By gleaning science from the sky,
For inquiring fishermen,
One day before fishing trips try.
His predictions are always true,
Using no modern high-tech tool.
He looks up the clear, starry sky,
Scans, eyeballs the vast milky dome,
While a friend stands expectant by,
Parting for home well satisfied.
Sunday, June 23, 2002