Visitor To Porto Plata Poem by Kathleen Carlton Johnson

Visitor to Porto Plata

Hearing is more than saying
You are here, wall to wall
In this green place of shattered light,
Long beaches bounded by cobalt seas.
It is the land of the swimsuit,
insistent souvenir vender, heated sands.
And I can see you. In that cold place
Working at your desk, next to a sunny window
Your civil self, orientated to chilly studies.
You are here, Amidst the strong split shadows
Tiled halls and all inclusive alcoholic drinks.
You come amidst the sounds of megaphones,
noisy rapid fire Spanish,
This adventure never stops,
except in the very early morning,
when the birds sing
and the wind bends the palms.