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