DAY IN APRIL
I have come to the outer margin
of summer, thunder on the Pacific rim
distant foreboding, gusting breeze
moves the heat, Sierra de Muerte deep
in fog, birds in anticipation, I hold on
to a loose thread, lost, far from home
solace only in dreams, hoping for
the route, some tickets, packed bags
finding a spare bed, promising to return
trapped fly in a skylight, futile banging
mother passing, sharing messages, not
sure what they mean, but leading me out.
c) Jan g. Otterstrom F.
April 8, 2010
Palmares, Costa Rica