A dwarf palm in a terracotta pot stands
by a north-facing window in his public library.
Graceful fronds like giant parameci
yearn upward in futility to an unseen sun.
Sitting nearby, He closes his eyes,
an Amazonian picture book cradled in his lap.

Soon a macaw sings its raucous
serenade to a rainbowed mate
during a tranquil earthy shower .
An incandescent Blue Morpho sips nectar,
The social chatter of Tamarins a distant chorus in the canopy.
Garlic, balsa, and worm-ooze
Vapors waft past my nose
He wonders about the opaque lake in the jungle,
Do piranhas jitterbug in shallow water waiting
for a drinking capybara?
An intense feline inches along an overhanging branch,
preparing to pounce.
The complicity of predators disquiets him.
A startling thonk behind is a hairy nut
bouncing in freefall.
When he looks up at some thatch,
a tarantula is dancing silently on tiptoes,
unconcerned about him.

An alien, raucous sound rends the air,
a cell phone with a Sousa march!
Eyes open, he slowly shuts the book,
rises,
passing the capybara grazing placidly,
near the reference desk.