Leaving from Baltra

    Galápagos Archipelago

A Zodiac buoys us to the ship as frigates
     cruise overhead, saturating sky with wings,
crisscrossing each other like wind-struck W’s.
     I think whisk, web, wisp,
as they scope the ship, scuffle in the rigging.
     Captain Chacon sets course,
assures us that currents will carry us away
     if we are foolish enough to step
overboard. We toast the ship and sip wine
     under the Southern Cross on starboard.
In wetsuits and snorkel gear, we explore
     an underwater volcano. A menagerie
of lizardfish, striped mullet and rainbow runners
     waver beneath us like an undulating
flag, a scurry of color and spiky texture.
     Reef sharks skid the bottom as dinghies
circle above like some oceanic wagon train.

     After a lunch of sea bass and yucca bread
we board the Zodiac again, its slippery seal-like
     skin floating us toward Isla Genovesa,
a terrain of blue-footed boobies, finches,
     storm petrels, swallow-tails, and frigates,
their red neck pouches blown full to attract mates.
     They scrounge in salt brush and sprawl
through sky, gliding, resting, courting.
     Gobbles, rattles, and drumming escalate.
An uncanny crescendo echoes through the landscape
     that looks as if it harbors a Tyrannosaurus Rex
or a one-eyed Cyclops scrounging the basalt
     scree, frightening off this terrain of birds,
but they are not afraid. They don’t stop eating
     or mating when we approach with cameras.
Sea lions don’t stop nursing their pups
     as we set shutter speeds and apertures.
It’s as if we are invisible.