After dinner I hear the music of the ceremonyacross the street. I look outside my open windowto the neighbor’s house and watch the processionslowly move from room to room. The young womanpresses pink pigment to the foreheads of her kneelingbrothers as the mother looks on, smiling, nodding.
I hear babies crying in Konkoni.The smell of urine sifts up to meas the breeze shifts the branches of a tree.A quiet moment in the garden city.
A cow slowly wanders down the muddy road.Across the field, the crack of the batfrom a cricket game echoes through the window.The game will soon finish due to darkness.And I know now, how if night never came,the game would never end, and the boysdone playing wouldn’t shyly smile at methrough the open window as they peddle home.
Photo by Zoshua Colah on Unsplash