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