A series of poetry/storywriting seminars led by Joe Heithaus (who recently wrote the New York Times article about Monteverde) let writers from ages 13 to 83 stretch and bare our souls.  We produced some pretty good stuff, but none better than this perspective on the road-building happening right now between Monteverde and Guacimal, by grade 8 student Monica (with photos from grade 10 student Galen):

The mountain shivered with the weight of the monsters
They picked its tiny dust particles and threw them to the side
They plowed into its body
Taking its guts and discarding them
Grupo Orosi

The fields at the sides tainted red
The sun laying its blanket over them
All witnessing the crime against the poor earth
Careless groups of rocks spilled around the organs

Giant scalpels cutting through our dirt
Our mountain crumbles
It has left her naked
The cold stuck to the bone
The homicide has left the skeleton

The sun mourns for its daughter, hiding against her sisters
The clouds hug its tears away
The cicadas sing a goodbye melody
The wind leaves flowers for it
A last breath for our mountain