Women walk purposefully on the street
in the early morning: a child has died.
A figure in a white kameez walks steadily
The brown donkey with white sack on its back
keeps pace
A man has climbed a feather leafed tree
And, cigarette between his lips, chops branches
With a short headed axe
A motorbike with pillion passenger
Moves slowly along the track, its blue exhaust mixing with
the smoke of smouldering grass
A broken concrete road in a field of swirling dust
In one month the monsoon rains will come, he says
And the water will rise to the level of your head
Two beggar boys throw peanut shells at each other
Then sneak a ride on the back of a QingJi
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