An Ode to Phetchaburi Province, Thailand

Oh Rushing modern world!
let me tell you of Phetchaburi:
sturdy men of every age richen the rice fields
her maidens are shy and kind and fascinated
her boys: friendly and honestly ambitious

The land boasts a thousand kind of palm trees
the land swells with solid, humble industries
swells with disciplined humaternity
and swelters in the constant sun,
but the many peddlers of good fruits are unphased

On the only mountain for many a mile,
there’s a shapely white monastery
where men and women live in the way of Gautama;
one may always join them for teachings and a breakfast

Not far away at all,
bands of hobbit-sized monkeys fight, breed, clown
and beg from all who visit the mini-market

and in the jambled outer jungles
elephant herds ramble their ancient ways
as stealthy tigers watch for the weakest link

You should also see the sprawling university
with its sweetly tended shrine of Pe-ka-kaney:
that one-tusked-elephant god of the arts.
This is his Epicurean garden you'd agree
were you to watch
the twirling ancient dancers and their nubile smiles
the apt actors on the ramshackle stage
or the accomplished artists who part with their work
for an American shoe-shine's fee.

Something this ode says
some things it cannot;
like the miracle of honey-bees
the lessons Phetchaburi taught!