The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Heaven Underfoot by Diana Woodcock

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IF THIS IS JUST A DREAM

What better place to reverence
creation than along two rivers
and that sensation, the smoke
that thunders, Victoria Falls.

Late February, early spring,
the rains and grey-crowned cranes—
everything fertile and wild.
Oxpeckers, those inspectors

of the backs of cape buffalo,
waterbucks and impala.
Shadows of baobabs and pink-
blossomed teaks on the land.

Ambiance of a soft rain shower—
leaf, thorn and flower washed fresh.
Scent of wild basil to cancel
out the stench of the passing male

elephant in musth. The karoo thrush
spreading its rich full-hearted song
like a velveteen shawl over the land.
Soulful, not a hint of morbidity

or ferocity. I awake from a brief
sleep, sneak a peek at vervet monkeys
in the canopies of pod-mahoganies.
Never mind my vision’s dimmed

by cataracts these days. I am
inclined to see and hear with
perfect acuity all the Zambezi
and Chobe offer. If this is just

a dream, and all is nothing more
than in the mind, then let me stay
for all time where the spray
of the smoke that thunders drifts,
              and little swifts fly through it
                             like tossed up golden gifts.

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