Monday, August 8, 2011

Nicaraguan Sonnet 11: From San Juan del Sur to Managua

The ox cart clumps by my tinted window.
Horsemen trot home heaving sacks of flour.
Families of white sheep munch pasteur and mow.
Nicaragua notes of few last hours.

A Mom scrubs child  in a metal basin
swollen brown rivers gush across our path
Smoldering volcanoe hypnotized gazing,
belching red hell of Gods´bottomless wrath

Pushing past sentimental snapshots retrieved
and leaving my hypochondriac fear.
The unwritten amongst the notes conceived
is deep in my heart, there is a love here.

Waiting in hotel for my Managua flight,
into the air and Nicaragua  night.

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