The stone woman rises to dance
 when the wooden man sings.

Slip down the muddy access road tramping
past sagging pagodas of wet horseshit and
fields of unruly plants.

           

Stones rise, puddles reflect what the land
remembers from ages ago:

I am here to
           see, not
           observe.

A splintered post, with no sign, marks a path
to the river's bed. Downstream painted walls
recall a life not empty anymore.