Location: Les Saintes, Guadeloupe
Below the land of Guadeloupe
Above the Dominican isle
In the lee of Marie Galante
Within the channel from sea to sea
A little archipelago
Encircling a tiny bay
Of sunbaked hills and thorny trees
Our anchor digs and pulls its chain
And so now we may come to rest
At the islands called Les Saintes
The town of Terre de Haut is found
Draped along the leeward slopes
With houses roofed in only red
And narrow streets all paved with stone
Past the ferry dock I find
The customs house atop the stairs
Inside a local laundromat
The officers reclined in chairs
Watching football on TV
They stamp our forms without a care
Keep the passports in your bag
No one wants to see them here
The grocery store is closed for lunch
Despite it being after 3
The bakeries are out of bread
You should have checked at 9AM
And nowhere are they selling eggs
Our breakfasts must be planned again
Submit your menus by tonight
But dont expect youll have the right
To cook whatever you may write
Its not like they have quinoa here
Along the bay to South and West
We find our anchorage at last
Beneath a boulder fathoms high
A headland tall and reaching wide
The Pan de Sucre as it is called
A massive rock upon the shore
It shelters us from wind and wave
And watches over Ocean Star
A diving morning
Hike to town for lunch ashore
Starlit class on board
Loved it.
Mo