See this berry catching the spores of light
with the brevity of a razor strike,
this berry is a red God.
Come closer, from your trance, pluck it,
destiny is marked by the nimblest of fingers.
It will be your guide, understand the belly-wiggles,
the lunge, here is hope, digesting.
Oh mother, sweet epitome of bush-to-bush leaping.
Oh father, grip or law of flee.
Now below, in the river
man floats in a kayak of traps and bait
so listen to the alarm calls, rise!
The monkeys scramble higher -
there, in a nest of arms, they wait for his coming.
