The Morning Chorus,

The Morning Chorus,
Buner, Khyber Pakhtun Khwa, Pakistan

The lazy sun stretches across the sky
And with it rises a haze of wood smoke
Throughout the mountain valley
The chorus of the world waking
Ushers us into a new day

The lowing of cows laden with milk
Steady hands kneading swollen teats,
Frothy milk crashing against tin pans
Milk that will lighten tea
Sizzling over fires tended throughout the village

The twittering of birds,
Stirring for another day of flittering and fluttering and flight
The mewling of kittens hidden amongst haystacks
The eager cruk-a-cruk-crooo of roosters
Their harems clucking and cooing and complaining as they lay breakfast

The tap, tap, tap,
slap, slap slap
of work-worn hands shaping disks of dough for morning flatbread
Bread that will be fried to a crispy crunch
On well-seasoned cast-iron heating over crackling fires

The shuffling of sandals in narrow alleys
The yawns of young men, sleepy-eyed and disheveled,
As they follow elders to the mosque
Rushing to respond to the cry of the Imam,
Calling, calling all to prayer and success

The sweep, sweep, swipe of bamboo stem brooms over dirt floors
The scraping of wooden cot legs on cement
Gruff hands fluffing pillows and shaking out heavy blankets

The cries of children roused from sweet dreams
The rustle and swish of uniforms being donned
Bickering over bathroom lines and who gets chai first
Before the streets explode
With buses honking and hurrying small bodies to schools

The lazy sun stretches across the sky
And with it rises a haze of wood smoke
Throughout the mountain valley
The chorus of the world waking
Ushers us into a new day