Khumjung

In the early early morning

I move the flimsy cloth back across the tightly stretched string that serves as a curtain rail.

Outside a quiet dawn has broken and the valley is still,

The mountains keeping their beauty to themselves behind a screen of cloud.

Prayer flags move and black crows cruise on the same small wind.

I lie under my quilts and blankets warm and small

Inside this monumental landscape.

And outside another ordinary day begins.

I am a stranger here,

struggling to make sense of what I see

in a small stone village high in the vast mountains.

Where yaks walk past my window

And prayer flags make a shadow on my wall at night.

September 2023