I've Never Been To Africa
I've lived where orange blossoms fall
and flutter on the streets of Spain.
In Germany I've seen the wall,
and snow-capped mountains from the train.
I've known Bahamas' sunlight gleam
where palm trees shift in sultry air,
but Africa, exotic dream—
imagination takes me there.
I see the restless plains that stretch
to meet the blue, forever sky,
alive with teeming herds that sketch
a savage scene in my mind's eye.
I picture people, tall and proud,
whose ancestors have braved this land,
and tamed a wilderness, unbowed
by flooding, droughts, and burning sand.
And in this dream, white jasmine sends
a honeyed scent that hangs and bathes
the senses where the blue grass bends
to spice the air in pungent swathes.
At sunset, coral streamers drape
across horizon's purple bars,
and nighttime spreads its velvet cape,
bejeweled with half a billion stars.
I live in North America—
so cool and tame everything seems!
I've never been to Africa,
but I have seen it in my dreams.
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