Testify

The black bear paced a few inches away from the glass.

No wonder Sarah Whitcher imagined a bear to be a dog—they’re of a size.

The polar bears stood on the glass of the underwater viewing station,

Swam and dove and hung upside-down to lure in fish. 

The brown bears wrestled and play-fought,

Enormous and beautiful, five feet—and thick glass—away.

In Africa, the lionesses pressed up to the glass for their nap,

While the lion paced to the watering hold and drank.

The cheetahs reclined, touching the glass, so we could look in their eyes,

See their skinny bodies.

We ate half our sandwiches watching the Amur tigers.

Several sleeping, one grooming; we could almost touch the white patches on the ears.

We saw geckos on glass, a kiwi scratching, a bald eagle with its aerie,

The stately rhinoceros, elephants using their trunks with precision, manatees.

We raced past the big apes (none of our favorites), 

Until we came to the end, the piece we’d been waiting for:

The koala, sitting on a branch. And the zookeeper brought new eucalyptus,

And the koala moved! It walked to one location,

Then back, then on. It stared at us from protruding amber eyes, 

Like marbles, then tucked into its lunch.

We sat on the benches and enjoyed our food,

Soaking in the glory of an ambulatory koala, and no one else around.

And as a final treat, we stayed for the little play,

With trained dogs and cats, a skunk, some pigs, and masses of birds.

A day at the Columbus Zoo: spectacular. 

Beyond all expectations and hopes . . . 

Like every minute was planned and provided,

Gifted to travelers, one sick and weary, all hot: a gift.