AT THE RIO COSANGA
We left our San Isidro cabanas
And stopped at the bridge on the Rio Cosanga
To search for the elusive yellow duck
For which we were not to be in luck.
However, blue swallows sat on a rail
Preening and flipping their wings and tails,
Then dipping and swooping in widening arcs
Snapping up insects above the rocks
Where the river rushed in a foaming flood
Fed by the weeping clouds above.