Corcovado,
Costa Rica,
Rivers, jungles,
Pura Vida.
To the station
Called Sirena.
Must cross the inlet,
Before dark.
When rising tide
Will let the sharks
Into the river to feed.
Heavy backpacks,
Walk on beach,
Sloping sand,
Glaring sun,
And Howler Monkeys
Screeching in the forest.
That race is won,
And we arrive unscathed.
So, we…
Unpack the packs,
Set up the tents.
Cook the supper,
Then dishes rinse.
Restless night,
Hot and sweaty,
Lot’s to see,
We will be ready.
Trees and bushes,
Bugs and birds.
A world alive,
Beyond mere words.
Down the runway,
One dark night.
Perhaps a Tapir,
Will catch our light.
And it does.
The next day…
We walk to ocean,
To fish and look.
A great big shark,
Just bends the hook.
The big fish are everywhere,
And a feeding frenzy begins.
The next day it happens,
We pack the gear.
Time to go,
The end is near.
Into the forest,
A path is taken.
With heavy packs,
And legs a achin’.
Thorns and vines,
Mud and sand.
To the north,
Lay promised land.
Unseen gold miners,
A guard with gun.
Miles of walking,
But all still fun.
Then like always,
The end arrives.
One last step taken,
Our lives awakened
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