Lilith

It’s still dark outside Portraits in silhouette Silvery moon yawning Sky draped in inkHe wakes up with a start As usual, he sees her Already at the stove Steam from the pot of pez Rising up to tease the skyRice for strength Broth for quenching His dust filled throat Pickled mango for tasteThe earthen pot wrapped up In a kerchief, tied up in a knot Some bhakri for breakfast A splash of consciousness Water does the trickThe mud road to the field Unrelentingly furrowed Bulls stumbling in the dark Slowly the sun cracks open the skyDigging, sweating, rippling sinews Plodding, ploughing, straining cattle Noon comes mercifully Lunch under a shady tree But not for longThe earth calls again like a needy child Back to the obstinate plough Under the watchful eye Of the exacting sunLate afternoon now Weary limbs, heavy eyes Day’s work is done One more stop to make Before going homeHe collapses on a bench In front of the local bar A tour bus goes by They point at him and all agreeYes, Goans are susegaad