Hotel Vallarta

A dormitory of iguanas lies sleeping in the sun

on a rocky hillside next to our room.

Flying low over the water, a dozen pelicans

float like a slowly undulating ribbon. Below them,

waves arrive in irregular procession from other

edges of the world, carrying with them gravitational

energies of the moon and all the stars.

In the pink light of dawn when the birds

awaken, they coax us out of sleep with exotic

hoots and twitters never heard in Massachusetts.

Every afternoon, a storm from the south comes to visit,

and brings us curtains of warm rain to clarify our

thoughts. Early in the day, before the storm, we lie

around reading books, imagining ourselves

to be like pelicans, waves, or rain,

but mostly we resemble the iguanas.

© 2005 J.M. Keating

Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

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