Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Another Poem by Magdalena

Note:  Salinas de Guaranda is not the same Salinas on the Coast:


For more poems by Magdalena, you can go back in our blog...


In Salinas de Guaranda

By Magdalena Herreshoff 12/29/2011

Thatched roofs, red adobe walls

and deeply trudged black dirt

blanket the green hills

into impeccable tapestries.

A red poncho silently sits

A head nods to the right.

A cow munches grass.

At the point closest to the Sun,

the volcano Chimborazo,

I watch vicunas mince steps with rope tied feet

Bewildered, they startle momentarily in midair

before coming to their senses.

My hands freeze in the high mountain dampness.

Tied to the cold wind by invisible strings

I disentangle them one by one.

In the early morning hours in the village of Salinas

milk cans scrubbed with hot steam

stain women’s hands and faces raw;

I follow donkeys dressed in wooden cradles

and stainless steel containers of fresh milk

as they wander off into narrow streets

baby donkeys follow ; they do not get lost.

An Andian mahogany red obsidian stone

hangs on my neck. A stone

equated to the Greek God Pluto

of underworld and hidden treasure,

it eats the outer and inner root

of waiting and watching.

I watch mingas shovel a rainbow of color,

men and women heaped together,

into stone, gravel and a beehive of buckets

until tired macanas, fendoras, white felt hats

dirty from rain and black soil

rest and mix into rich farmland,

Rubber boots covering pants

Whole families sit with cows.

A red poncho silently sits

A head nods to the right.

A cow munches grass.


1 comment:

  1. is so beautiful. We long to be living in the home we don't even know yet.