Sights and sounds at Green Meadows.

The line moves on
of some men
and mostly women

the sun lighting the red bricks
on their rusted iron plates.

Suddenly, a woman is out
 to  look at a child
relishing the taste of mud
then scoots off
as some men arrive in a sedan.

Now the line moves on
at a hectic pace
arms go up in a familiar rhythm
as bricks and empty plates
get exchanged.

The show goes on
taking a cue from somewhere

of a restless baton.

The child is bored with the mud
cries aloud as she toddles around
her mother in the line
may have heard her.

Soon the digging of a borewell begins
shrill , piercing, monotonous
unending and deafening
all the other sounds.