At thirty-thousand feet in the calm
comfort of air-conditioned, carpeted,
sea-level pressured cabin, I stared
out the window, ignoring the inflight move.
Only the smell of instant coffee
 

In the dark noon of the deep Isthmus jungle

and the clink of silver and glass
from the refreshment cart rolling up the aisle
momentarily broke my dull reverie
reverberating with the sound of jets.

filled with pungent musks and muffled noise,
exhausted, dull-eyed men -- brown

As I stared out the window, trying to see
earth between wisps of white cloud,
no brilliant patchwork of vari-colored greens

bearers hacking with blunt knifes
and white, plumed soldiers struggling
in their rusting armor -- ignored

appeared -- only a barren grey-brown land
spotted by the yellow haze of smog.

the dark-canopied swamps, the treetop
flashes of resplendent bird,
the screeches of the howler apes,
as they slowly chopped a narrow trail.

I arrived, yawning and bored, in Los Angeles.

In the oppressive, muggy heat, aggravated
by sweat sores, scratches, and cloying insects,
they struggled up a tangled hill
to gaze in quiet and awed surprise
before they shouted at the calm, blue ocean.

By Charles H. Tidwell, Jr, in Spectrum: A Quarterly Journal of the Assocation of Adventist Forms, 7.4 (April 1976): 31