Morning Light—-Nosara, Costa Rica

Sometimes when I wake early

when I have just enough time to run

to the sea

and find a perch among

all the other creatures awaiting

the sun's morning stretch across the horizon,

I wonder why I am not always this way?

Why it is that once the rays have warmed my skin to a sweat,

my intuition seems to burn off with the morning mist.

In the kind, crepuscular light of the morning,

I have no questions.

As my feet pad along the dirt path--

my body tells me I must worship

so I go.

When the sun bursts up over the earth

cloaking us in golden light,

we give thanks,

the pelicans and I--

for the warmth she pushes up under our wings

and across our skin.

There is not separation

in that light.

I do not wish I were still in bed

or allow my pounding heart

to beat to any tune but my own.

But soon,

as the waves rise up

then curl , spinning like sufis across the sand,

my hunger calls

and I am torn away from the wholeness of our prayer.

The golden light fades to the yellow of the day

and I walk back home

wishing I could always be sea and sun

and nothing more.