1950's Cubanesque

The music's a
muse
it conjures contemplation
it's bittersweet
as a grapefruit...
(with tinges of sugarcane)
The percussions,
back rhythms
are made for dancing
lulling all to their
feet
while the horns
are
mysterious,
melancholy...
And these Caribbean sounds
awaken visions
of maracas,
of turbaned women
sashaying on bare feet
and bongos
worked by the callused hands
of 
mahogany men.
and smiling faces,
sweat-sheened
gleaming in the reflection
of a tropical sun
on teal waters.
The women 
sway,
their skirts move
like the fronds
of palms
ruffled by
a
sultry
breeze...