An Attenborough Thing...

 

The camera from the plane

Can see but pink and blue

The veldt now left behind

What can the waters do?

The heat beat down by breezes

The bugs left far below.

Might we see soon some hippos.

Might thirsty springbok show?

But pink the prelude only

As down the Cessna goes

The rhythmic wading stilt birds

In leagues nobody knows.

Their dance a strange agreement

Their numbers blow the mind

And we cleave to this wildness

All cities left behind.