Africa is so arid.
We glide over Kenya, where I’ve never been.
The shrubby carpetweed and purslane clump;
outposts of savanna trees seen from our plane.
And the sudden grace of being airborne,
while just walking on clay-pack landfill,
a sunwashed track on a hillock of trash,
the exhilarant height from my head
to the ground,
returns me to that buried child,
diving most earnestly into play.