11-17-89
Thousands of gnarled,
red-brown tree trunks
spread over the forest floor,
form a dusty, Kelly-green canopy
a hundred feet over head.
Hot, humid air
full of musty smells -
decaying leaves and rotting wood,
rich, moist black earth,
and perfumes of exotic blossoms.
Fallen leaves on
the forest floor,
thick, brown and spongy;
slippery on slopes,
making traction treacherous.
A trail, winding
between hardwood giants,
over low, rolling hills
and small, tranquil streams.
Feathered harmonics fill the air,
calling, unseen,
some raucous,
some peaceful,
all melodic and beautiful.
Furtive movements
of furry bodies
in the branches.
Squirrels? Sloths? Gibbons?
A clearing - open sky,
calm, cloudless, aqua-marine.
cooler air, but still humid.
Muddy water - wide,
smooth and slow.
Tall elephant grass along the banks,
smells sweet when trampled.
Rustling sounds in the air,
faint, but growing louder.
Geese? Egrets? Cranes?
Man-made, metallic tail fins.
Lightening and thunder,
searing, deafening.
Flying rocks, metal fragments,
smoke and dust.
Painful screaming, crying,
strangled choking.
Sudden quiet,
roaring in the ears.
Listen, with
trip hammer heart beats,
to life fluids ebb,
unable to move.
Dust settles,
the birds warble once more.
Furry bodies resume their movement,
and the river flows on.