|at Rio Celeste|
I love the frigate birds whose easy grace on cliffside, seaside air belie their silhouettes so sharp and weapon-ish.
The gaudiness of honey creepers, tanagers, and colibri, fierce feathers flashing like they're made of molten metal.
I love the din of howler monkeys that hootfully proclaim a sprawling forest valley as their own.
I love to take an unknown twisting road through woods and farms and dusty villages,
To stop at some dark and shaded soda for beans and rice and icy fruit refresco.
To have my sons along so some of this weaves into who they are and will become.