November 2002
Woke up to the Caribbean breeze,
The faint sound of lapping water and
Rakes as they comb the white beaches.
The fat white clouds drifted lazily over the islands,
Visible outside of our turquoise bay. 
We turned into angels from heaven,
Floating wingless along the currents.
An aura surrounded us as we marveled at the tropical fish,
Who swam in schools around the burnt yellow coral.
Diving pelicans, with extended wings,
Plunged into the shallow waters,
Filling up their briefcases
While silver smelt swam in the thousands
At the surface of the water.