From half a world away
we watch as the mud of their swimming hole
thickens into clay and the water evaporates
There is a slight curve to the earth
but the camera is stationary
and slow and heavy the mother
observes her young ones
rolling in the mud
They are learning the instruments
of their trunks learning to turn
twist and curl
to grasp at the things
the world receding still offers
before they are gone
A solitary acacia shades the spot
Day in the other half of the world begins
all bounding in the mud
the earth is their garment
and all of us
are consumed
