On Edge at Mosi-oa-Tunya
- The falls.
- Afternoon sun paints rainbows.
- Fish eagle pair wheels about the colored band.
What more could there be?
patience
and
peace
poetry
feline gumshoe after hours
feline gumshoe after hours
Detective Meow
furrows his brow
so many cases to solve
like the Case of the Missing (not missing) Tea
or the Missing (not missing) Waitress
he puzzles each out
with a suave swipe of the paw
and twitch of black & grey tail
in an instant
he’s balancing on a sofa arm
or strutting across the stage
making life decidedly sillier
even if the perp goes free
when the long day is logged
and he’s off for the night
he cleans his whiskers
and favors luau:
rustle of grass skirts
scent of a lei
taste of Mai Tai
and the warm glow
of tiny tiki torches
warthogs on the lawn
warthogs on the lawn
to be English in Africa:
beating back the bush
sipping tea and quinine
keeping your garments bleached white
despite red clay and grey dust
serving Her Majesty
a world away
stripping another tribe’s land
to twist the sinews of war
admiring the steel span view
(naturally, not the falls)
all while determinedly peering past
the warthogs on the lawn
Cedar at the Sink
Cedar’s actually a year old in this photo 🙂
Cedar at the Sink
Cedar offers to do some dishes
runs warm water
and green soap
over white bowls
carefully lays things tipped over
on a silver ridged drainboard
and smiles at having helped
he’s 9 now but suddenly I see him back at 3
standing on the kitchen chair
with its back to the sink
wearing a corduroy apron
splashing cups in great drifts of suds
pouring and dumping and
scooping some more
overjoyed by the play
of water running over his hands
making things clean
Moonbow, Victoria Falls
Moonbow, Victoria Falls
your eyes make the best cameras
the guide says
somewhat apologetically
he knows how it will go –
a swarm of eager people
staring at the black faces of their phones
blinding each other with impotent blasts of flash
fiddling with ineffective light setting sliders
while chiding the machines in their palms
how can you not see that?
aimlessly pointing at one torrent then the next –
maybe this one is white enough
or maybe an unseeing video would
do at least the sound justice
(played back later,
it is the epitome of white noise)
oh, my awestruck misguided friends
(including me, with my eleven photos
of a seeming void)
if ever there were a time for poetry
the moment’s at hand
dark shaggy forest
moon cooling from ember-orange to frozen white
whisper that turns to deluge
mist alternately brushing your forehead with feather kisses
or spraying your crown with spittle
the pale white arc
so much smoother than all the noisy jets
curving like Diana’s bow
leading your eye straight into
the frothing maw
then dancing ahead next time you watch your step
and that’s just overlook No. 1
of 7 we’ll be traipsing through tonight
breathing in frangipani
turning a misty colonial memory
into treasure the Copperbelt can’t melt
Verreaux’s Eagle-Owl
Verreaux’s Eagle-Owl
on a bare branch
directly along our path
in the last sunset light a camera needs
beneath the blue-white glow
of a nearly-full moon
he perches casually
as if we’ve conjured him
as if there were anything else we needed
as if we hadn’t been awed enough
our pink eyelids blink back at his
and our jaws hang open
our lips forming a wowed o
for owl
shapeshifter
Owen took these photos
shapeshifter
in the thicket
sunlight flows
and shadow flickers
unremarkable
except for a
white twitch of tail:
leopard
Saddle-billed Stork
Owen took these photos
Saddle-billed Stork
out of the world
of tribal masks
and dances from the spirit realm
comes an ancestor
tall on thin black legs
with a bright white body
like a spotlight
then a long brilliant bill
orange-red like a night fire
off in the bush
then a shaman’s face
black, bony, banded
with ceremonial pigments
the same fire engine red
but also taxi cab yellow
he stands two hands higher
than the tallest reeds
herky-jerks his way
through the shallows
shaking his magnificent head
like a melodramatic puppet
bends low
comes up awkward
with more fish than he can swallow
manages anyway
ends up with a bream-shaped bulge
in his long smooth neck
when we drive past him the second time
I’m just as awed –
again he appears as
a fierce young warrior
long-limbed
and all adolescent elbows
Owen at Twelve
Owen at Twelve
Owen gets burned and says almost nothing
sprawls across my lap
trying to capture light and feathers
just right
tells stand-up-comedian-quality jokes
(he asserts)
while cracking himself up until he squeaks
works hard every day
to get a huggie! response from his brother
sleeps sound while a hyena
yowls its way through camp
eats whatever meat is set before him
knows birds he’s never seen before
nearly as well as he knows
how to turn the tumblers
on each one of our hearts
while arching his eyebrows
giving a mischievous sidelong look
Tsodilo Hills Masterwork
Tsodilo Hills Masterwork
3,000 years ago
one soul laid on his back
smearing red on rock
saying
I’m here
now.
Yes,
and I see you knew
how to mark a whale
spinning through blue
stabbed with sunlight –
something my tentative hand
still can’t manage
despite all the time in the world
to try.
