The TimeKeepers Piece
Higher than the Afghan hills, distant squats an Eastern sun. Tempered by ancestral powder and dust, its glow skims playful above the two thin cows in a field, finds the broken, splayed Toyota truck, waits slight and patient above the sleeping Afghan family two klicks distant from the Americans. Alhib Muhammad snuggles with Aldira, her lips parted, perhaps she is speaking verses in a dream. There has been no fighting for two months. And the Americans have brought irrigation supplies. Poppy seeds are near blossom and he hopes these will make market. He has promised his young wife sandals and a new cooking pot. He falls back into an agreeable dream, one that sometimes visits when he is hopeful.
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