Nancy E Wright2
09/13/18 06:08:01PM
17 posts


I balance downward on the wooden steps

Clutching the sturdy gnarled rail

In darkness with no flashlight.

Somehow I find the path

And wait for the two headlights

That signal the jeep with the driver and guide.

They arrive early but late for my anticipation.

I hoist myself into the jeep.

Patience gradually envelopes me,

For the entire day is ahead,

Expanding into a lifetime.

The heavy air lifts with the light

That delineates the firmament,

A New Eden with species of flora and fauna

Too abundant to name.

They dart, hasten and fly through a pastel

Not quite Paradise the angels had begun

But not finished the night before.

I sway blissfully through the unfinished,

Relieved that I can Google the names 

Of the birds and beasts identified.

To write them now,

I would need to release my clutched camera

And risk its dropping from the bouncing jeep

As I scribble notes that the bumpy road

Will render unintelligible.

My pupils search for the miracle

But not intensely, for the afternoon is yet before my gaze

And the monkeys' chatter pleases me

Even if they are anxious about what is not a miracle to them.



The afternoon is covered with a muted balm.

Hoisting myself into the jeep is easier now with practice.

We start on the same road with the same bumps.

Suddenly we spy the miracle,

Robed in amber and onyx,

Courageous stoic and solitary on all fours,

Cloaked in drowsiness to our advantage,

Sated and now satisfying our hunger.

“Silence please,” I whisper,

Then motion so as not to be a hypocrite.

The guide and driver nod politely

And continue to murmur.

My eyes are daggers, one thrust into each murmuring mouth.

The miracle in amber and onyx ambles into the grass,

Deep and deeper by the shallow stream,

And collapses into a sweet sleep in the soft emerald

Amid eager and agitated shutter clicks.

“Why,” I seethe, “were you not silent

For this most reverent of moments?”

My angry tears seep into the tumbling raindrops.



Drenched, we jolt and bump our way to the riverbank.

“Will we see another?” I snarl through gritted teeth.

“Maybe,” they answer with dubious and guilty faces.

“We had better...but will a miracle cross the road in the rain?”

Slight and sympathetic shaking of heads incenses me.

The jeep lurches closer to the river.

The rainfall intensifies.

“Will we see one at the river?”

They do not answer.

I strive for gratitude

At seeing monkeys

And the pride of elephants under the banyan

For which they had been quiet

At my wrathful insistence.



We turn away from the river.

“Is there any chance we will see another?”

They do not answer.

Their faces are blank.

The guide in the jeep ahead signals.

My driver and guide motion that the miracle is crossing.

“Now you two be quiet,” I hiss.

They nod. We advance.

Amber and onyx again traverse the road, gleaming with raindrops

And are gone.

They ask if I am happy.

“Very,” I reply. “Thank you.” 

They sigh. We all smile.

updated by @nancy-e-wright2: 09/13/18 06:16:14PM