She hangs  there by the moon

shimmering and primeval

the snow streaming down her back

and mid-day Africa sprawled at her knees

savannah-gold, heat-quivering

and I, transfixed  at my stable door!

 

A topaz bird dazzles in a thorn tree,

lioness paddy-paws through the dew;

herds of buffalo shake their horns

while giraffe and gazelle daintily spangle the  Acacia slopes

and wildebeest, the gargoylish dears, hummock quaintly about.

 

Above the monkey-reeking, broken trees

- bent and uprooted by unecologic elephant -

behold, there she goes

way over the clouds, suspended  in the air!

The people at her feet, quite rightly always said

 that god lived there,  up in the snow

 crowned on her sky born back.

 

It is not long since she spat a deluge of boulders

flung fifty miles with the ease of her fury

smattering the zebra-milling plains

her recentest word

but not her last.