the view from the 202..

six flights of stairs..cement stairs..
on the outside of a new building..
she was wearing a faded peach sari
which dragged a little as she climbed.
carrying a basket of bricks on her head,
she took each step slowly..sasheying lightly..
savoring the balance she found afoot.
she walked as if she was meeting her sweetheart;
the bridegroom at the top of the stairs.
i lost her somewhere on the roof top.
when she re-appeared,
she carried the basket in hand
heading down the steps brisk as a cup of tea!

he was doing his sister's work...
tugging the clothes off the line,
piling them up on the cement rooftop.
saris and shirts, britches and knickers..
slips, socks, handkerchiefs.
he dipped into a plastic tub,
pulling out the same only wet this time..
throwing the fabric over the line,
he picked up the clothespins with his toes,
bent his knee behind him,
captured the clip and snapped it on the garment..
on to the next..
he looked up..
i waved..
he turned to see to who..
who me?
he smiled white and wide..
then finished the task.
he was heading to the volleyball field
when i saw him again.

the plastic bag was rolling slow along the road.
instead of picking it up,
the man kicked it a few steps, then lost interest.
the young boy, however,
thought that seemed a game worthy of his time..
for a few kicks, anyway..
he put it on his head and danced away!