The train quickly demolished waiting
Our waiting in things and other things.
Mountains were waiting to be dug in
As to make way through their wombs
A train cut though a butter of silence,
The wombs of darkness’ green aqua.
Women were waiting to turn red waves
Of dance, hands locked in each other’s,
Their songs reaching ends of the blues.
The hands were waiting to inter-weave
In fragmentary beauty under the trees.
Boys waited on tree-tops like monkeys.
(On a visit to the Borra Caves in Araku Valley)