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Writer's pictureErin Phillips

The way the salt licks the air


It’s all around

The way the salt licks the air

The pelicans crest the wave

The limbs of the guanacaste tree arc against the ocean blue horizon


Birds of paradise calls rising as high as the feather tuffs on their heads

Howler monkeys waking up the night and shaking the forest


Starfish tossed in the tides

Hundreds of hermit crabs hurry through pinched sand

Agave line the black lava coast that drapes and scrapes into the sky


Book pages flip in the wind

Hair curls endlessly like a spiraling shell

Hands slip through and trace the cervical curves

Emerald green like a turtles back

Under the glossy surface

Reflecting the starbursts of warmth


Penetrated by the landscape

The sun burned red

And flooded the sky


I tilt my head back and inhale in the Costa Rican stars

As a delicate white flower opens from the rib of a cactus

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