Kathmandu refresh

There is recognition in these worn-out brick walls

hung over with bougainvillea in cerise and dusty green

and thick black bundles of low-slung power lines

but we startle turn step aside for the next tooting scooter

to thread through the constricted lane past high iron gates

a sleeping dog and crates of empty Pepsi bottles.

For we have lived here before, the language now

emerging from hibernation when poked with sticks

of need, words that provoke smiles and wonder

and engagement warm as the winter sun

as we order cups of sweet milky chia and sit on dusty

plastic chairs to watch a thread of Kathmandu weave by.