The sound of the breeze passing was in itself cool. In the shade, I watched ants crawling across a warm steps, small black beetles scurrying across a wilderness; soldiers marching up into the hill and warriors fro some heavenly bush paradise descending to protect the roots of a crouton hedge. I remembered the coconut trees of my childhood, the sound of the breeze through the fronds simple, pure ‘deathless’ air.
And then those very still moments when the world would stop and only colours move like the blue breath of dawn lightening the sky, or the darkness of night misting the globe; a clolour, a ray of curved light and nothing else. the water would be unbroken like the mirror.
A perfect peace that seemed eternal even through the jungle might unleash its fury at any moment.