Amid a coughing intersection
of goats and diesel, where barefooted
women balance baskets on heads,
weaving their way through squatting vendors,
a diminutive man plucks an instrument,
his thumbs move like water, the tune rolls
gentle waves, and there is a sudden gathering
of finches that have grown silent,
and the girl in the sky,
pretending she is nothing
more than clouds,
dances.
