Tall, blue-black women,dressed in off-white,
seek rare shade to unload baskets and gourds
to unburden tired bodies.
They stretch out on straw pallets
sit on boulders, lean against tree stumps
and are slowly swallowed by darkening night.
Their loud chatter rises and skips
across hardened red clay paths,
disappears into the greying mountains.
Like sleepy lionesses, some keep watch,
hear the skitter of a lizard, see a rare withering leaves
swirl, in moonlight, down to their final resting place.
A distant hum reaches them.
Beating drums are caught and carried by the wind.
An owl warns off trespassers.
Blue-black ears listen when eyes are tired.
They see fireflies dance in the hot-breath night
before eyes glaze into sleep, before heads nod down unto chests
They must use this interlude well.
Over the final drying hill,
is a day of selling and bartering
(c)1984 Althea Mark-Romeo
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