India seizes us from the first moment, rushing, a confusion of horns, hands, language, faces. Children ragged, women as silk, flowers smell of fuel, sweat, curry, fire. India fumbles, lurches, swirls, collides, crushes, unfolds. We learn to walk with a slow stroll. Mother Earth, Mother Earth, I am here, I am here. Thay is our tender face, our wise child, our oasis. We allow his peace to teach us.
Ruby Odell, California