note

namaste,

european woman opens her small red and black notebook
tears the himalayas from her map
her trail of tears
white mountain gods

blue sky, eagles, deep gorges, waterfalls, cold wind
raging rivers
presses it all preserving persevering

between lined white crumpled empty sheets
scribbles memory 
down life's little road

with anxious nervous fingers 
she presses a tin foil magic pill free
swallows h2o my
how did i get here?
what if i die here?

metta.

Sparrow

Namaste,

A man waits with a weight scale. A bag of potatoes. Cool shade. Dawn the down against red bricks.
He shines his black dress shoes with a newspaper. 
A woman in a turquoise shawl decorates stone with her whisk broom. 
A woman unfolds green stalk onions on a white plastic bag. 
Boys slap Tantric wooden masks removing yesterday. 
A light rain falls.
Sparrow wings flutter in your face. Directly. 
Their air currents support six prop jets as curious enthralled tourists press their faces against plastic glimpsing Himalayan mystery and beauty.

Metta.