Waiting For The Morning Bus

Jim Nasium

 Dawn slowly colors the Eastern sky

reflections of sunrise paint the sea water

birds sing the song of a new day

dogs bark as cats head home from the prowl

My feet soak in the warm salt water

as I sit on the sea wall waiting

 the bus to town is late again today

 no one is ever in a hurry here

Off in the distance I see a few small boats

the waves toss them towards the shore

 their nets are loaded with today's catch

 fresh treats for the sea food lover

Soon the boats will be on land again

 the fishermen must sell what they caught

but are willing to trade for things they need

slowly the market place comes alive

Vendors gather in the center of town

wooded tables and booths are set up

 fruits, vegetables, breads and cheese are offered

 along with fresh fish, meats and ganja

Experience tells me to get to the vendors early

they are always eager to barter

 the early bird gets the worm they say

but all I really want is the bus to come

The old man who pushes a wood cart on wheels

 loaded with fresh bread and sweet buns

 stops at the sea wall to offer me a treat

I ask him to sit for awhile and we talk

He assures me the bus will be here soon

I thank him for the bun and wish him a good day

 he has to go set up in the market place

 before all the good spots are taken

A few woman who take the bus to town daily

gather near the sea wall talking

they are happy to stand in the shade and wait

the wait is nothing new to them

 Children in blue and white school uniforms

 play games like Simon Says and jump rope

 their books and lunches lay forgotten on the ground

 they wish the bus would never come

 Men who must take the bus to their jobs

 are not happy about the wait like the children

they are slightly hung over from last nights rum

wanting only to turn back the hands of time

The sun's high in the sky now

 as the big blue bus rounds the corner

 horn blowing to announce it's arrival

a long line of people forms to board

I put my shoes on and gather my things

 make my way to the end of the line

 pay my seventy-fine cents, and find a seat

knowing the ride to town will be a pleasant one

There is always someone to

 talk to young ladies interested in an American hippie

Rasta's who swear they have the best of everything

old people with their stories of days gone by

There's conversation and ganja is in the air

 as we make our way East on the old coast road

 finally on my way to Montego Bay

on the Morning Bus

Jim Nasium

©2005 

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