Early hours, Mozaga
Even before the sun rises
cockerels call out across the village
the fields and houses still subdued
below the moon-lit sky
I look from the open window -
the signs of life and movement
amplified in the sleepy stillness:
over to the distant hills
headlights of a jeep
jolt along a single track
giving evidence of the farmer's journey
to his fields of potatoes and corn
and looking down
immediately on Calle Sancocho
that semi-feral cat which
from time-to-time
appears on our patio for food
brisk-paces along the dim-lit road
searching
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