* Total Freedom

And so we sit
naked in the late
afternoon sun
drying ourselves.
Habibi wrapped in an
orange towel -
me plopeed in all
my 64 years of glory
in a blue chair
on the back terrace.
Hair once on my belly,
fondly known as
my 'hair strip'
has found it way to
my chin.
I sit with a ten times
mirror, attempting
to rectify the invasion
if only termporarily.

The warm Mexican breeze carasses
my skin
and drys my hair.
I glance once or twice
behind and upward
to see if anyone
may be gazing
down at our private moment
from the nearby roof.

The shadows are long
and form exact shapes
on the courtyard walls.
Birds begin their even song,
cocks crow,
distant traffic makes its way
to unknown destinations.

The sun sets as
I will set one day
Always there
Always in existance
Only disappearing
from our limited view.

* About San Miguel

And I, my dear Rain Goddess, live in the land of El Sol and La Luna.  Where the land and it's people are warmed by day with El Sol's soft rays and dusted in La Luna's beams when twilight falls.  Where the land is high and the air is clear.  Where rain comes only when summoned to grow crops, wash the land, and fill the taps for her people.  Where fruit drips from trees awaiting a hand to pluck, eat and swoon.  Where flocks of birds wing there way by dawns early light to rest in  trees by day and fly at dusk to nest by  lakes.  Where the music of her people is so deep and rich,  there is no beginning and no end.  Where fountains softly let their water fall to sooth the tired soul and trees alight themselves at dusk to embrace you.  Where home is.  A distant home from some far away life.  Where I long to dig deeper and deeper until I find myself hidden in the layers of history.  A land where angles come to rest their wings and find peace.