The Caracol, a snapshot
by Kitty Boots
the young man with the pleasant face leaned against the fountain in the plaza
he told me he was from Akumal
I said, "I've never been there."
he looked at me with dreamy eyes, tipped his hat back
and said,
"You should go."
instead, I drove to the barren side of the island
a tangle of tropical foliage fighting with the dirty white fog, glimpses of a quicksilvered beach
waves assaulted black volcanic rock in briny harmony
water erupted like geysers through blowholes
a low rumble, a moan, a cry
wind-blown foam, scouring sand
monkey chatter drew me over the dunes
criss-crossing vines and roots
The Lighthouse, The Caracol
grey, weathered limestone
crumbling
embroidered with lichens
I could barely fit inside
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Author's Note
A memory of a trip to the Yucatan Peninsula.
Other stories by Kitty Boots
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Beautiful. Put me right there.
The magic of Mexico. (Belize)*
Terrific images.
Evocative description of the area. Not sure I'd be game to go there. Too many monkeys...
Thank you, Erika. The little monkeys are very shy, not accustomed to hand outs...you'd be fine! :)
Thank you, Dianne. I'd love to go back.
Thank you, Tim. It was certainly a lively, almost spooky place. Not another soul out there on my visit.
Thank you, David. It's been on my mind for many years...it finally came together, I thought.
Lovely work.
Thank you, Gary.
Vivid and lovely@
Thank you, Agnes