Author Archives: Matt Tooley

Arbored zebu humps layered our line of sight, long as the spider’s strand.

Bodies like mature eucalyptus trees; beauty draped in thin cotton.

Four plastic burlap sacks, packed with charcoal, balance on a shouldered pole.

Under a straw hat, a dark man drives a team of zebu with a cane.

Choirs of sugar cane– stalks yellow, leaves a pale green– sing in the sun’s light.

The traveler’s palm fans like the crested head of the hoopoe in flight.

Two white egrets stand in long, lime-green grass beneath the erect, gray bole.