Category: Colombia

The Peacock sits so silently.
In the sun, clouds, and rain.
Feathers in a robe of many colors.
Trailing behind, making a lane.
Every jet of blue, green, and black, shoots behind in its wake.
And a beak of subtle yellow, pointing out its way.
When he needs to cool down, or wants to impress.
He spreads out his robe of glory, and up come the jets.
So many are here and there.
Only feet away.
This calm and caring creature.
Adoring its lovely bouquet.
When he walks down the aisle.
The crowd falls to a hush.
This birds glory never dies.
Not its beauty or smarts, all lush.
Everyone admires its robe of teal.
Green, blue, black, all four.
Everyone loves the way he makes you feel.
Happy, calm, and more.

Slimy. Icky. Between my toes.
Step. Step. The net is what I throw.
Big. Little. All around.
Pinch. Bite. Sting. You don’t hear a sound.
Birds. Fly. Don’t take my prize.
Shoo. Away. Go to the sky.
Boat. Paddle. My brother too.
These are the things we use.
Shallow. Deep. To my waist.
Swim. Walk. Throw the bait.
Crabs. Fish. Die right now.
Suffocate. Stab. Dinner. Wow.
Bait. Throw. Drop the trap.
Three. Four. Five crabs is what I get.
Sorry. Not sorry. What I do.
Keeps me alive. Eating this stew.

 

“Mommy, can I have a piece of chocolate?” asks a little boy.
“I’m making coconut rice. Go ask your mother,” she replies.

“Mommy, can I have a piece of chocolate?” asks the little boy.
“I’m fishing. Go ask your mother,” she exclaims cheerfully.

“Mommy, can I have a piece of chocolate?” asks the little boy.
“I’m cleaning the tools. Go ask your mother,” she says.

“Mommy, can I have a piece of chocolate?” asks the little boy.
“I’m watching T.V. Go ask your mother.” She replies.

“Mommy, can I have a piece of chocolate?” asks the little boy.
“Sleeping… Or trying to sleep. Go ask your mother.” She grunts groggily.

“Mommy, can I have a piece of chocolate?” asks the little boy.
“I’m swimming. Go ask your mother.” She replies.

“Mommy, can I have a piece of chocolate?” asks the little boy.
“I’m collecting the crab traps. Go ask your mother.” She says.

“Mommy, can I have a piece of chocolate?” asks the little boy
“Sure,” she replies, as she hands him a piece of chocolate off the shelf.

So the little boy runs off, all of his village mothers staring after him and the chocolate in his hand.