As when the air is yellow
filled with the light of peering sun after rain
and everything looks light and gay
with the sheen of droplets on green
reflecting the yellow light
and with every blink I thought
I was blind but now I see
the joy of vision ever renewed.
We got out of our makeshift shades
made of sticks and arrow root leaves
back to our guarding task
the rice field against thieving birds
a stretch of golden field
bent stalks and ears bursting heavy with grain.
Thinking the birds were long gone
to seek some shelter from the storm
and now their wings too damp to fly
we abandoned our task
and went off playing in the mud
then out of nowhere
a flock of weaver birds
descended upon the ripe rice field
like a horde of Mongols
as we slid in the mud slope – naked.