River steps are wet with village women’s baths.
A golden sunlight floods their mornings in boats
Leaving early for mountains on wrinkled rivers.
Giant banyans greet them from the other of bank
Spreading their shadows of hair on the blue sky.
Mornings are for sun,your palms cupped with water
Looking the sun in the eye, lips softly trembling
With prayers, as white wet clothes cling to body.