The air is still. Caught in a time warp. We climb the little hill. Over the knoll lies the pond. It’s depths unknown. Or what lies at the bottom. The sand is fine. Quicksand fine.
The rattan food basket sits beside the fishing poles. The worms squirm, crickets huddle in the wire mesh box. Sun glares above. The air stays still.
We sit and wait. For fish to bite as stomachs rumble. The basket stays shut till mother gives her nod. Then its a mad scramble for hard boiled eggs and deep fried bean curd. Lukewarm milky tea is dad’s favourite.
Silence is so sweet
No ice nor heat interrupts
time is precious gift
trust your heart if the seas catch fire – e.e. cummings
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