Before sunrise, before the howlers howl.
I want to go down to the lake and bathe before
women come down to scrub clean the day.
After I shed the baptizing water and dress,
I’ll sit upon the bank to let the sun warm
the notebook on my thigh. With pen in hand,
I’ll watch the sky take on soft tints of dawn.
Perched on branches of a tree uprooted and
submerged by some violent, forgotten storm
neotropic cormorants will shake themselves awake
to dive and spear a breakfast of luckless fish.
Roosting on a small island, great white egrets
will preen silhouetted against pink clouds.
Nearby clinging to ceiba and mahogany, wild
orchids will inspire my mood as well as my words.
I want to watch dugout canoes ply quiet waters
paddled by children on their way to school
or to work hoisting handmade fishing nets
while I remember that once I was one of them.
I want to spend the day listening to the jungle
behind me come awake as I paint the sounds
and scents with foreign words and remember
the countless brothers and sisters I never knew.
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| Cormorant Taking Flight Guatemala-2002 by Jeter Skeet |
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