Sunday, June 24, 2018


A volley of pounding echoes overhead.
"The morning tradition," my husband says, smiling.
Upstairs, our landlord's wife is pounding roti dough into submission.
Later today leftover bits will be broken up and tossed on the lawn.
An entire flock of sparrows will drop from the sky, their chestnut heads bobbing joyously..
Blackbirds too.
And while sparrows squabble,  black birds will dart in an out like wind up toys gone mad.

P.S. Turns out the pounding has to do with tea and not roti at all. Spices are pounded fresh each morning for Chai Tea. Ahhhh. What could be more traditional than tea?

Friday, June 8, 2018

welcome mat

I have just shown a spider the door. Given it 'the bums rush.' What a great expression. Not a very compassionate one but there you have it.
Against the stark white of dropped ceiling was a thug of a spider.
The biting kind.
I've been unpacking.
Lots of boxes and paper and clumping about.
It has caused a disturbance in the smaller kingdom I suppose.
Maybe the spider decided the neighborhood was going down hill.
Out he swaggered.
I grabbed the nearest thing to hand.
An antique canning jar and piece of paper.
I had to stretch and reach.
The spider did his own stretching and reaching.
Now he was on the jar lip.
Now he was on the outside of the jar.
Now he was on the paper.
Now our eyes were on lock and hold.
Now I was sprinting for the door.
Oh oh.
Both hands were full.
Empty jar in one hand and desperate spider gaining its bearings on the other.
He's outside now.
I dusted him off onto the welcome mat.