Blue plastic tarps drape one family business
Water beetle tight beyond bamboo fences,
Dividing the spaces aboard for work,
Or sleep, or laundry, or cooking pork.

A child sorts melons, a mother cooks,
One elder sorts onions, another looks
For fruit in baskets, she easily tosses
One ripe pink melon to mix in her sauces.

A riderless bike left abandoned on shore,
The rider is poling herself home once more
Toward her space on the river to savor the peace.
The day disappears and her body favors sleep.

From a bike or a barge, wheeled cart, or a van,
Walking onto a plank or a boat from the land,
The People of Rivers are confident, proud
To thrive on the water under silent, gray clouds.