By Michelle Douglas
to Kitaro
ancient magic sings in the fertile wind and weaves the waving boughs into silence-the bovine tread quietly along the sacred roads, past marble temples graced with vine and faded gold-the buddah quietly smile in their humble shadows: all wise, gentle, round-bellied , and tall- the boy plays his stringed sarinda softly beside the slow, green Ganges and sings-the Brahman paints his white tilak with steady hands, praying to the Supreme Soul for his Karma-only in Bharat does the slow, green Ganges flow, and Buddah smile in shadows while the bovine tread the road Michelle Douglas
