Saturday, March 15, 2014

Jungle Yearnings

Sitting in a dugout,
Gliding down a river,
Looking upwards to the blue sky,
White, wispy clouds breezing by,
Tall jungle trees,
Pointing high!

Close my eyes,
Feel the tropical sun upon my skin,
Humidity in the air, cool water against my hand,
Dangling fingers swim in the green, brown river,
A soft mist sprays upon my brow,
Cooling water!

The jungle permeates,
Earthy, damp and musty,
A thousand years old!
The smell of a storm coming this way,
Sweet, sour, a bit of decay,
Jungle smells!

Listen! Listen!
What do you hear?
The cry of a majestic macaw,
The wind moves the leaves of the palms,
The water gurgles as it ripples,
Quiet sounds!

The sights of home,
The feel of home,
Familiar smells,
The sounds that call me home,
I hear the beckoning and I long to return,
Winding river, take me home!

4 comments:

  1. You're alive!! Glad to know that! Hi, Jungle Mom, we sure do miss you here on the Jungle Internet. Why won't you post more? Visit us more?

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  2. Maggie's Farm had a recent posting on Musical Youth which featured a jazz-playing brother combo home-schooled in the state of Maine and a youth orchestra from Paraguay which plays on musical instruments made from, shall we say, recycled materials. Most ingenious. Not surprisingly in a video about Paraguay, yerba mate from a horn makes its appearance- at about 2:10 into the video.

    For all that you miss the jungles of Venezuela, the continued deterioration of Venezuela under Chavismo is probably something best viewed in the rear view mirror.

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