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.