Hard to believe I can be envious
of Brazil’s reclusive indigenous,
of which all I’ve recently seen
are pictures of spears,
thatched huts and
But I grow more envious as
the mercury creeps
up the thermometer
and I wilt like a thirsty hydrangea.
I would dance,
if it would inspire thunder claps
and thick, juicy rain drops.
I would prance,
if it would unleash the breeze,
like the sway of a thousand trees.
For all the creature comforts,
nature can’t be beat,
making the rainforest tempting
as an ideal retreat.