S. L. Gore

Costa Rica

to the Sea

there were raindrops in a sunny sky,
a cool breeze brushed the hair from my brow.
banana tree gardens grew by pink cottages,
green velvet mountains dissolved into blue mist.

a dense mauve rolled through the long valleys,
pressing heavily on white brahmas clinging to the steep slopes.
white rum ran with the amber cola,
we greeted the promise of magic just being born.

– Costa Rica
new moon in Aries 1973
Year of the Ox