Time

Three women sit,

cooking, eating lunch,

while the working team

shovels and pours cement,

pounds down the shapes.

At the door of the container

where wind swirls, it is cool.

Inside, the office part

and storage space for brick-making machines

is deeper in heat.

The women’s shoes are sensible,

like boy’s shoes,

cement splattered, shaped

to the work, speaking

of their place on this earth,

this work, hard lives.

We’ve had to wait for our meeting,

because cement, mixed,

waits for no one as it sets. 

- Brian Walter