Suzy Saul


That small golden monkey,
a ball of fur sun-haloed,
his long tail so gracefully, casually,
looping down in air --
how does he feel, I wonder,
carried thus swiftly through space
across the wide savannah
even he, nimble in trees,
thought-quick among twigs and leaves,
could not leap alone
as in dreams one flies?

What is this like for him?
Does he look down,
appreciate the view?
Does he enjoy the wind?
Is he amazed by speed?
Exhilarated, or numbed
by fear?
Such a tumbling
might occur.

Perhaps it is a comfort
to be gripped so firmly
in those talons.

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