The sky is grey.
Two black women walk across the parking lot, stepping out of rain, stopping to rest.
She is wearing grey tracksuit with a hat on her grey head, scarf hanging loosely around her neck. Her daughter grabs one end, gentle and slow motion, as if she were building a house for soft petals resting on two sets of delicate stems.
Two strangers caught in the act of loving kindness.
I am back in the city of gold, my home province of South Africa.
My friend comes home, picking up groceries for dinner. Welcome home, honey. Kisses and hugs after you put your bag down. “mwa mwa!”
“Can I turn on music?” Of course, it’s your house. She turns on the radio. “Are you okay with coriander” Of course, I am full of flavor.
It is raining still. I didn’t bring socks or sweatshirt.
She hands me a pair of cherry red socks and black sweatshirt.
Dampness hangs in the air.
It’s raining still, and I have found a story belonging to a book of overcast days. To you two strangers, I dedicate this love letter. My favorite poem.
“Fall Song by Jo Harjo
It is a dark fall day.
The earth is slightly damp with rain.
I hear a jay.
The cry is blue.
I have found you in the story again.
Is there another word for ‘‘divine’’?
I need a song that will keep sky open in my mind.
If I think behind me, I might break.
If I think forward, I lose now.
Forever will be a day like this
Strung perfectly on the necklace of days.
Slightly overcast Yellow leaves
Your jacket hanging in the hallway Next to mine.”
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