Index...

you are your own shadow
this autumn noon
at river's edge

Every day, we passed by the same thatched roof home nested under a cluster of trees by the water's edge, on our way to the main river. We called this tributary, Route 66. It was a Viet Cong hotbed under the cover of night, the scene of many firefights between the Cong and river patrol boats. During the day, it was a picture postcard Eden. Hard to imagine danger lurking from those shores. The same woman, always without
a hat, and clad in black pajamas, stood outside the home's entrance like clockwork whenever we passed by. The home, like all of the homes in the Delta, had no electricity. She had walked out of the darkness wearing black clothing Was she a lookout for the Viet Cong? Or just a curious woman?