Rice Fields of My Past

The road ends
so we hop out to walk
We follow a dirt trail,
feet squishing in the murky water.
My sandals get soggy
mud rises between my toes.
We pass a small mud hut
the thatched roof is falling down.

Fields stretch green
and long and far.
The air smells sweet
in the breeze
The sun shines bright
in the sky white hot.
Laughing voices of children
ring in the distance,
I cannot understand them.

There are no buildings in sight,
only lush green land.
Chirping birds and the
grunting of animals break the humid silence.
I look down the green steps of the fields
and follow the long flat stairs

to discover where I come from.
where I
come
from.