The Monk's Walk
They walk in single file beside the river.
Five young men heads newly shaved,
their saffron robes washed so frequently
that orange has turned a saffron yellow,
a yellow seen in temple lamps at dusk.
They gather under a broad Tamarind tree
for shade and rest.
There was a big match last night.
I overhear the names
of Thai football players lauded or lampooned.
The boys shuffle their feet,
dribbling imaginary soccer balls,
skillfully tackling less nimble opponents -
their excited talk
is birdsong beside the water.
Some playful rib digging --- then off they go
one behind the other along the Klong,
processional once more, reciting
a numinous Buddhist chant;
their beatific smiles
perhaps recalling a fumbled kick
or an easy goal.
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