After the usual three o’clock rain,
the sky is painted with a pale

watercolor wash. Eastern clouds capture
the golden-rose sunset & a

rainbow.

~       ~       ~

Come sunrise, bands of magenta clouds wrap
around this valley’s mountains &

deep into its creases … & alpenglow
sheens on Antisana’s snowy

north face.
                        

The wind Xocomil
roughens the deep blue-green water
of Lago Atitlán.
The waves rock 
back & forth,
forming small white caps.
They slap against the shore.

On the slopes – 
Coffee trees
heavy with the
redness
of ripening berries – 
The patchwork
of milpas
with the multi-green
of maguey, onions, tomato, chilies.
The wind Xocomil
rustles
the dry corn stalks.

The spray rises
from the bow of the boat,
casting rainbows
above the water.

On the shores
of the village
of Tzunaná,
the women & children wait.
Their dark blue skirts,
bright red huipil shirts
lie still,
heavy.

The leaves
of reeds,
of banana trees
bend to one side
under the weight,
the force
of the wind Xocomil.