In the cool of the morning,
you speak peace to me
as I sit on the roof
under the mango tree.
Relief from the heavy
Honduran heat,
I watch the city wake up
under blue mountain peaks.
Hear the chatter of roosters,
the Spanish of neighbors,
as my mind composes
these sweet love letters.
In the cool of the morning,
fresh mercies I see,
in the foreign I feel you
more completely.
