I pass the cane fields, some of the cane still standing, some burnt back to the bare, blackened ground. A few have tiny new plants already growing. In the background are wooden houses on stilts, ramshackle, dotted across the landscape, distant from each other behind clumpy dark trees. The sky is awash with low grey cloud. We cross a bridge. The wide flat river is likewise grey.
The scene I am passing through alters to high-rise city – shops, offices, tenements. The walls are beige or grey, the roofs dark red or brown.
Image: View of Church of Saint Paul de Mausole, by Vincent Van Gogh
Written for dVerse Haibun Monday 3
Linking this to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #281 (December 6 2015)