the sun also rises

Something woke me this morning.

I say "something" because whatever I would claim was the agent of drawing me from sleep would only be a culprit named after the fact. After all, I was asleep.  How do I know? 

I would be no more reliable than most of the eyewitness testimony I heard in court over the years.  The only difference is that most of those witnesses claimed to be awake.

But this was a rare opportunity for me to experience something new.  This is the time I usually head to bed. 

The laguna has a unique feel this time of morning.  The roosters are just beginning to start their echo chorus.  One.  Then another.  Then another.  Each patiently awaiting his turn to announce -- if you get near my little piece of earth, your entrails will moisten the ground.

But there are far less aggressive sounds. 

The chimpanzee chirp of geckos calling out to prospective mates.  The buzz of cicadas.  The vocal impressions of a flock of grackles -- as they zoom off on their morning commute.  Doing their best to avoid becoming breakfast for the local falcon.  While a limpkin adds a percussion beat by cracking open a crab.

And the sun rises on Melaque.  For me, it will be a day to slip back into the rhythms of my little fishing village by the sea.

I have tasks to complete.  Add some money to my telephone account.  Pay my annual postal box fee.  Check on some details for my Chiapas trip -- the Oaxaca trip having been canceled.  Eat breakfast at my neighborhood restaurant.

But the real joy will come from talking with my neighbors about their lives and the happenings in this town.

It is a good time to be awake.