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| Sunrise |
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| Sunset |
The sky is turning a lovely orange-red now in a ribbon above
the hills. Above the orange-red lies a ribbon of blue, and above that the sky fading
into black studded with persistent stars. A rooster crows across the bay.
Howler monkeys were growling in the canyon right below me a few minutes ago.
The waves wash rhythmically onto the beach directly below me. A slight breeze
drifts through the screens lining the length of my cabaña. New sounds of new
birds waking up now—one chirping, the other whistling. I sit here writing with
no worries on my mind, my children and grandchildren to love, sad about losing
Sarah, Ali, Sammy, and Miles—but one simply has to take the sorrow that might
come from love. The orange-red is turning to vermillion, fading. The sun is
about to rise. And there again is the growl of the howler monkeys who have now
traveled across the bay. This is my last morning (for a while) in Playita (next
to Playa Venao), Panama. Very difficult to think of flying back to winter and
the country of Donald Trump tomorrow. Okay, here comes the sun, the cirrus clouds
rose threads across the sky—enough to make anyone believe in God.
