Afternoon Comes to the Valley

Afternoon comes to the valley.

Sunlight steps across

the terraced rice fields,

casting green with gold.

Dust swirls over the street

as people pass by on bikes,

motorcycles, busses.

Horns compete.

Motors clatter.

Clouds drift in a long line

low above the mountains.

The sky lowers; hills nestle

farther into themselves

as the sun moves past.

Somewhere between the peaks

a woman squats in a doorway

washing a bowl without a

thought, perhaps, about what

happens on the other side

of the world.