Amazon Jungle After Alfred Tennyson The Brook
By mangrove swamps I idle round,
my canopy's world wonder,
leafcutter ants beneath the ground
where three toed sloths would wander.
Tall forest Tarzan never knew
from ground grows great, colossal.
My ecosystem filters through
sward broadleaf basin fossil.
I wind about, and in and out,
with here a silted delta,
an anaconda round about
observes the helter-skelter.
Pass here and there a native hut
pirogues moored to lianas,
with cataracts which canyons cut
mid mangroves and bananas.
I link all life all along my route,
but scoff at lilly-liver,
some men pollute both tree and root -
for them who cares a stiver.
I'd slide by lazing jaguars
admired by nature lovers,
lush greens, blush browns flushed far from bars,
barred are crass concrete covers.
I turn, return, upstream and down,
here deep, there sleep in shallows,
wild orchid winning wonder's crown:
soon jungle man's trace swallows.
Six thousand kilometers long
from Andes to Atlantic
my tributaries maze among
an area gigantic.
I'd flourish under moon and stars
an Eden no machetes
can cut down, with no motor cars,
few churches, no confettis.
My birds and monkeys most hirsute
cry by the flowing river,
though men pollute both tree and root,
Time is the best forgiver.
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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