Late in the day she heaves
a bulging bundle atop
her head, dry grasses pulling
at her scarf, tickling her scalp—
the only massage she'll ever feel.
What does she know?
about the length of days, her moon
cycles, predictable seasons, and
sensual gusts teasing inside thin cotton
skirting the depth of her dreams.
Written for Friday Flash 55 - My post in exactly 55 words - for the G-Man.
Written for The Mag: Mag 175 that inspired with the above image prompt
(photograph by Musin Yohan).