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There is a whole world of straw
Spun in waves that rise and fall
Rumblings of rolling and crashing calls
So shrill they echo without end
Sometimes things blow in the wind
Grinding into fine dust, and revealing
Spirals that go on yawning
Emptiness with their passage
So much remembered through moving bus windows
Flashes of color of indistinctive cars
Touched by memories of places that remain forever
Fields of browning corn going-by in a swirl-
Conceals an evening masked by stifling heat and dust
A moment that rings motionless bells calling for a late evening meal
Surrounded by circles of reflective faces that sit waiting
Stranded but happy to end another tiring day
Coming up at every turn, familiar faces
With footsteps that hug and thump wasting pavements
Strangers rushing-by like muddy floodwaters
Every time the morning train stops
Their day always begins at the wrong place, it seems
Yet they try to catch up where they left off yesterday
Staring-in with longing eyes
Into a world arranged with ever rising tiers
There are moments through open doors
When strangers walk-in unannounced
To inquire about the picture on the wall
And when the last bus departed
There are yet so many unseen hills to be scaled
Ascents of rapturous applause
Rise skywards with each fleeting moment
When faces are lost in loud echoes of joyous shouts
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