Rice fields

Rice fields

         on the way to Sisaket

Stretching farther than I can see, nothing
but empty fields, puddles, spare trees.
The rice fields have been harvested.

Emerald puddles glisten under clear skies,
no smoke in sight. I lounge in my seat,
gaze out the window as buffalo graze.

I sit still as the world flies by,
as my words slow down, no longer
able to keep up. As I doze, they stumble

between stubble, midst memories of corn,
wheat and beans; but, when I wake up,
only rice-straw bundles stare back at me.

© Copyright 2023 Kåre Enga (10.desember.2024)

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