The luminous process of the owls was nearly at an end and the silence of the valley was slowly returning

From our bed I could see a heat mist gathering above the trees

It was unlikely that we would stray far from the veranda due to the heat

In an hour I would collect the drowned insects from the swimming pool

It was a thankless task as the doomed creatures would return and drown during the night hours

Insects are immortal in the valley

 

You were lying on your back staring at the rotating fan that quietly hummed above us

I looked at your breasts and desired you but I was trapped in my own torpor

A bead of sweat ran down your arm

I caught it with my finger and watched it dry within moments

This was our sixth honeymoon

Honeymoons are always taken in the valley

 

After bathing I sat in a wicker chair looking at the erotic fruits

You were naked and taking a swim I envied your composure

A native brought me an iced tea in a tall lemon glass

The poor man was watching your light recreation with sad eyes

He realised that you were unobtainable and wanted to kill us both

Resentment often festers red in the valley