The Ink Zone

Number98                                                                                             October, 2000

Green

Dry season mist swallows the trees in a shroud. Clouds parade west retreating from the sun. Rays fan down filtered by the cirrus. Silhouettes of distant hills, some square some gentle, become ever more green.

Flights of macaws crack the still air with screams no reflection of their beauty. Big songs from smaller birds chime in with the hollow drum of the howler monkeys chatter. Distant light burning the mist creeps west becoming ever more green.

It is dawn in the Carajas jungle. The canopied forest, wet dripping stolen from the night cool air slides away from the mist to unveil a mottled texture, some tall, some vines, all becoming more green.

In the gentle morn, what we do not see, makes the Amazon extra special. Carpeting the land, multi levels of trees, partly opened round domes piercing the green to grab some light, all shelters of life. All becoming more green.

The lucky will see little deer with horns not so big as to make walking in the forest hazardous, some might see the big cats, enormous rodents and the slither of a snake or perhaps the playful, but deadly river otters or the peccary pigs, the aggressors in the war below the canopy. It is what we do not see that is dangerous. Fevers from insect's, poisons from plants, all becoming more green.

Light green, yellow green, sea green, forest green, dark green, green green, emerald green, pea green, blue green, aqua green lime green, mean green, teal green, avocado green, turquoise green, Kermit green, Pistachio green, soft green, bright green, and just green. The sun moves higher and the day is becoming ever more green.

For now, the view off the plateau is serene, becoming ever more green.

The mist will absorb into the warning air, nocturnal will rest. Clouds will vanish as the sun wins, at least this day, the daily battle for space in the sky. It is day, It is green.

At dusk, when the mosquitoes feast, the green darkens to black, bring with it the mist. Wide eyes open, searching for food. It is the things we do not see-the most dangerous to thee. It is still green, just darker now waiting for the bath of light traveling from so far, that might bring new shades to our sight.

Will the beauty ever end? I say not, it is becoming ever more green.

G.E. McKelvey

GEMPress