Morning, Pokhara
Farmer calls to the cow, gently
Corralled in a stonewalled fence
Mother calls her child from an open door
Time for a freshwater cold bath
Labourers scrape broken bricks over the edge
To collide with roof of corrugated tin
Birds call and puff splendid plumes
Demonstrating their innate biologic worth
Trekking guides ply for determined hikers
With different dreams of dizzy altitudes
Cafeman tempts the passers-by
With steamed milk tea and German pastries
Boatman sits quietly with paddle
Ticketbook ready to ply to the lake
The foreign lady talks more loudly
Convinced she’ll be more understood
Dogs yap at movements all through the night
Vigilance unnecessary in this dewy hour
Roosters ritually announce another day
Repeating proclamations well into afternoon
Trucks honk repeatedly for someone
Anyone… to open the rusty metal gate
The black-haired girl sweeps stairs routinely
Her distinct action – whisking dust before polishing
The Stupa gazes quietly from atop the hill
Tea houses lead the way to certain inner-peace
The hotel open doors pleased for patrons
But remembering the days before…
Annapurna and her cousins hide behind clouds and mist
Only revealing peaks when fully dressed
A lonely man seeks a barber to trim a shaggy face
Possibly reveal a timid smile
