A quiet dignity.
The lady, round straw hat, bright chin strap,
flowering blue dress,
rides sideways on the back of her family's battered old grey moped,
making its way up the pitted, dusty road.
Where are they going?
Where are they coming from?
Do they think the same questions of me?
The cool breeze from the lake blows in,
as i sit,
watching the verdent green hills,
listening to the rattles of old tractors,
thinking about the grey clouds drifting overhead like the thoughts in my mind,
and then they are gone.
