People of the Rupununi
dwell in heat unimaginable
never sweating, never gasping
like this pallid northerner
suddenly sauna'ed.
She stands in the morning
gazing downriver
Her baby tiny, quiet on her arm.
The river is cool and clean.Nearby, a basket
woven on the spot
of what was at hand
of leaves still living
We each have things we can do
At which the other wonders.
Mine, tied up in gadgets
that do my will
But need an outlet.
Hers, having to do with grace
and knowing what is enough.
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