When I was very small indeed,

and Joe and Fred were six-year giants,

My father, they and I with soil

did mix farm yard manure.

In this we planted coconuts,

naming them by brothers’ names.

The palms grew faster far than I;

and soon, ere I could grow a Man,

They, flowering, reached their goal!

Like the ear-rings that my sisters wore

came the tender golden flowers.

I watched them grow from gold to green,

then nuts as large as Tata's head.

I craved for the milk I knew they bore.

I listened to the whispering leaves:

To the chattering, rattling, whispering leaves,

When night winds did wake.

They haunt me still in work and play:

Those whispering leaves behind the slit

On the cabin wall of childhood's dreaming and becoming.