New path

Cows chew grass,
jaws move in time
with tails
that flick at flies.
Houses slant on
stilts of ancient timber.
Chickens squawk,
children play,
shrieks of laughter,
before lunch.

Aromas waft
like wayward
butterflies.
On makeshift
bamboo tables,
bowls of soup,
and rice,
feed family,
and anyone else
who’s hungry.

She grew up here,
chased chickens,
laughed and ate
with friends.
Now, she is
the provider.
Today, chickens
are thrown uneaten rice.
Tomorrow, one of them,
will be lunch.

She irons
on the floor,
washes dishes
in buckets
of rainwater.
Words linger
on her lips,
as she thinks
about how to
pronounce them.
Arched eyebrows,
head cocked
to one side;
a plea in her
brown eyes
asks;
“How to say?”

Inside the
village temple,
we pray
to Buddha,
with the monks,
at four o clock
in the morning.
Fill their bowls
with sustenance,
then pass
an envelope
of ironed banknotes,
each with the
King’s portrait
facing the same way,
always placed
onto the proffered
orange silk.
She cannot touch
a monk, he cannot
accept from her hand.

I wash the feet
of her parents,
and the village Elders.
Receive undeserved
blessings, for
things I’ve never
done before;
I haven’t a clue
about what’s
going on,
I follow
every move,
and learn.

Calmness descends.
I’m cool.

She has taught
me so much,
no promises made
or wanted.There’s no
façade, quietly serene,
she looks at me
and smiles.
Coyness her only
make up,
fingers entwine,
rare serendipity.

As thunder clouds
form a scrum
on the Northern
side of the ridge,
I walk barefoot
toward a
Thai monsoon,
I don’t need
guidance,
I know my
direction,
but I can’t tell
where it will lead,
I’m starting afresh,
taking chances.

When I’m with her,
I lose moments, and become
afraid,
afraid
this will end.
I never imagined
her as my wife.
Never thought
of our future.
I make her laugh,
never made her cry,
but that’s a lie.

Tears flow
at the airport;
hers and mine.