It is hot,I breathe
hot, humid air.
T is busyin
the hot sun,
forking
baked land
for
tomatoes,
and
these
beans.
I read the
instructions
carefully
and tell T
the story
of
Jack.
Mid afternoon
I escape
to the
river.
Dry season
has made
it a stream.
The sun
seeks
me
out.
An Angel
has given me
cive
to plant.
They must
be trimmed
before
planting.
Here are
some she
prepared
earlier.
The mountaindisappears
behind
a cloud
full of
promise.
I race
to make
holes in which
to plant
the beans.
The heavy drops
fall and evaporate and I go to the river
with the bucket.
You give a real sense of being there. Humidity is so draining. You are a brave woman, but there are obvious rewards for living in such a climate as well. :0)
ReplyDeleteHaha, I have been called 'brave' here too, but it translates as being arrogant, which, I suppose I have been on occassion. Humidity is quite nice once you get accustomed to it.
ReplyDelete