Alun Buffry


Is a cloudy sky, bright sun between, a slight breeze,

The sound of one man chanting.

And all elsewhere a few notes on some type of magic flute -

A strange cacophony of bells and horns and clattering.

No two horns seem to sound the same.

A mother engine? sounds like a tractor - probably a bus!

Beep, beep, beep.

If I look out of the window I see tin rooftops,

Blimsen Tower, a glorious white standing before the blue;

And there - a temple, a pagoda, a woman sitting with washing lay out to dry,

Pigeons coo-ing, crows a-crowing, gardens growing,

Potted plants that people tend,

A bicycle rickshaw, a cow, a man with a bundle of wood on his head!

A cockerel crows as another motorbike passes 3 men trying to move a fridge,

Young girl, proud, staring into space,

Three boys rolling rubber wheels of glee amidst the rubble,

Whilst more look on admiringly.

Yet another dog - a tempo (three-wheeler) barking as two boys, hand-in-hand,

Laugh at a goat.

Cock crows, horns, far away mountainous silences

Surround the Monkey Temple,

Like a golden palace on the hill.

Behind - another hill.

Shame about the dusty haze.