I Hate To Pack
I wake as the sun rises to it's stage call,
bursting rays that wake the dim expanse to a brilliant blue.
Morning, afresh, encourages the effervescent waves to play leap frog,
tumbling over one another to reach the sands, basking on the shore.
Palms and Banana trees swell and sway with sun and wind,
dancing in a tropical ballet they beckon the tide to bring it’s life giving dew
Blooms of profuse variety vie to parade their colors,
as if in royal procession, they lift their delicate heads toward the majesty of the sun.
The isles are bathed in mystical warmth as they awaken to a new day, and call to me to
come and see...
I stroll the beaches East and West looking for gifts and finds, treasures and troves the
sea has left behind in her hurry to retreat.
Each wave that washes 0'er my naked feet,
carries away a problem, hurt or concern that seems suddenly unimportant.
No beach chair needed, just sqwiggle and wiggle,
creating your own impression in the sand, Mother Nature’s bean bag.
Relaxing to favorite melodies, each breaking wave seems to comply and compliment any
rhythm.
Midday brings solitude as the sun peaks to solar heights,
and cool ocean breezes turn to warm, balmy winds as the tide changes her course.
Beaches become deserted as visitors and natives retreat to shaded palapas,
Awe, Si, it is siesta at the Fiesta.
Afternoon reawakens to the clamor of beach chairs and blenders,
Happy Hour gathers friends to reminiscing and laughter.
Faint tropical rhythms begin to waft in from neighboring celebrations,
signaling the beginning of the seduction of tequila and Mariachis.
At days end, the sun attempts to hide behind Tetas Dc Cabra,
only to have it's rays shattered by the peak and dispersed, not wanting to give up it's
glory.
Reluctantly it surrenders and allows the moon to rise to her call,
the lunar glow bathes all things in magic splendor, transforming the view to silhouettes
and glitter.
The silent moonlit sky is disturbed only by the sound of supple surf,
and the gathering of tiny stars into celestial constellations.
leaving me to reflect with melancholy thoughts of days past, fond memories and lost loves,
With only a streak of gold across the bay,
and the sands glittering with salt water sequins,
My eyes weigh heavy with soft contentment,
as I bid Buenos Noches to another glorious day in San Carlos.
Someday I'll pack for one last time, and never say "Adios,, again.
Till then, I'll keep a bag by the door and seashells in a basket,
dreams in my head and hope in my heart.
Maybe I'll get a bigger suitcase.
Lanae McDade
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