HAIKU - DECEMBER 1991 - BELIZE     

                    On the burnt cane fields

                    that roll out like a black sea

                    We search for new grass.

                    Pine trees tower high.

                    They tangle with a breeze that

                    roars like the ocean.

                    In the black night home

                    bus windows let in a wind

                    that makes us shiver.

                    Through night's dark stretches

                    our headlamps show the dull road.

                    We race with the moon.

                    The dogs sniff the dawn.

                    Whiffs of bread in the oven

                    sift through the screen door.