MONKEY RIVER
I hopped on board with my pack
Binoculars, camera, lip balm, sunscreen, bug spray, water bottle
My baggage
The early morning birds on active duty Watched our boat pass
To Monkey River
Once a thriving banana republic
A real republic of bananas
Colonial British, Creole, Garifuna, manifestly destined Americans
Bartering bananas instead of khakis
Now only a couple hundred Creole-Garifuna locals
Bartering in the tourist trade
And we come
With our backpacks (and our khakis)
Binoculars, cameras, lip balms, sunscreens, bug sprays, water bottles
To see something different
A crocodile here, some mangrove swallows over there
A blue heron, or two, strangers sitting next to us
Some birds high up in the sacred Ceiba tree
Relatives of the oriole, the largest of their family
What were there names again?
The great roar
Of the howler monkey
Large round mouth, wide-open throat, voice deep and amplified
Little bitty body
Like a black cat hopping from tree to limb
And those tiny little bats
Easily mistaken for giant moths
Incognito on dried branches sticking out of the river
On the way back
Wind-Whipped
Hair like meringue peaks
Sun pink skin glowing
The color of rum punch
Bowl of turquoise blue holds
A playful stingray, a manatee and her two calves
Acquaintances sitting next to us
Who saw the same thing
Check that off your bucket list!
Stingray? Check!
Manatee? Check!
Howler monkeys? Check!
Tiny little bats? Check!
Friends sitting next to us
Portlanders, Coloradans, Yukon Canucks
And those whatchamacallit orioles high in the Ceiba tree
What were their names again?
Jane's Dynamic Unwinding Compass 
Ahhhhhhh….. your words dance, Jane. How do you do it.
Thank you Marga!
You are awesome.
Thanks so much Mara!
√ loverly
I had to chuckle when I saw this comment. My grandmother used to say that word and I haven’t heard it in a long time. 🙂