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Xiou Xue
         ‘Little Snow’ her story. ( my son's family 'home helper)
Ma wars, with earth to conjure a meal,                                                                                                  Made in a kitchen which all pests have vacated.                        
Weariness blinkered, Pa contends,                                                                                                In a haze for contentment, in tobacco & drink.
A vision become probable, neon signs wink to her,                                                                         Negative gains still seem to offer fulfilment of dreams.
Desolate in the dark room, prospects evaporate.                                                                              Scenes of homely environments bridge bitter memories.                                                                            
Jesus answers,                                                                                                                              She phones,                                                                                                                                  They touch,                                                                                                                                  Tobacco fades,                                                                                                                                  Hopes rise,                                                                                                                                          Christ lives. 
                 Beijing Hutongs.
                (Old alleys & narrow streets.)
Grey dust over all the piles of food waste,                                                                                Snow Bikes & barrows. No flies no smell!
Wind chills’ no deterrent to sellers or window gazers.                                                                     The tourist shivers alienated by culture.
Shoes happily shinned, smiles warm. The barterers laugh.                                                                        Do half-hidden homes reflect the same?
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