There were people harvesting sugar cane.
I like the lizards.
Forgive me, but since I've been in Alaska,
I've been very nostalgic for lizards.
This is a little shot of Volcano Poás Mist forest.
At this place, Eloise took us to a stream that had seven pools,
and in each pool there was a different species
of hummingbird.
Those are called chachalacas.
And this one is the Montezuma oropendola.
And, I mean, aren't those just great to say?
OK, the invertebrates, the bugs were fabulous.
"Tent Revival."
If after afternoon rains you hang
under a blue tarp, this worn bed sheet, then position behind it
lamp and before it a bench, all manner of visitors
will descend.
Most wish you no harm.
Invertebrates smaller than the nail
on an infant's little finger tremble, backlit,
beside luna mouths wide as masks, feathered for carnival.
Mosaic in motion, triangles of tent wings.
Tatted, bob and spun, cruel work, the delicacy and strength
of lace, sepia ink on hand laid paper, open work cut
with manicure scissors.
One magnificent jeweled fellow, cloisonné patterns, red, brown,
and tan, twirls antennae twice his length,
draws the world to him, to him, to him.
Dripping still, water flows over us,
carves fresh paths down the mountain and underground.
Strangers here.
We draw this world to us, to us, to us.
World, we've just begun to sense, to take care of.