Our taxi lingered, idle at the light,
slight droplets coalescing misty rain.
Her sudden taps insistent at the pane,
grabbed my attention outward to the night.
Balloons she offered, festive, out of place.
Survival hounded. Desperation egged.
Necessity demanded. Courage begged.
And ticking seconds on the driver’s face.
Her sari hid the baby in her arms
in colored cotton clinging limp and damp.
Unseen to me, another roadside camp,
or nightly fears, or daylight’s unknown harms.
The taxi surged; the seller slipped behind,
still tapping at the windows of my mind.

—David Jackson Lohnes
2022