Evening on the Steppe

I’m on leave so I’m posting a bit more than usual. Here’s another short piece that sits better like this than as a poem.

 

Evening on the Steppe

A chill presses down on the grass the air settling on the steppe; a landscape purpose-built for the nomad.

A ger lies to the north, a white blemish on the distant and fading mountains, where fine green cloth folds over the granite beneath now washed in soothing evening light; lengthening shadows unmasking the ephemeral drainage gullies.

Mother and daughter, vivid in purples, whites and reds, lug water over river-worn rounded cobbles past a satellite dish gazing into the evening sky; hot yaks-milk tea, mutton stew and the television beckon.

Smoke winds skywards coiling around the first of the night’s stars, solitary in subtly deepening blue, from where the Tengre gazes down, straining to hear a shaman’s chants.

Somewhere Ghenghis Khan stares up, trampled by a thousand years of wild horses, not even remembered by a standing-stone.

About George Fripley
I am a writer who enjoys writing humour, satire, poetry and sometimes a bit of philosophy. I live in Perth, Western Australia and occasionally get a poem or article published. It's all good fun! I have two books available for unwary readers, Grudges, Rumours and Drama Queens- The Civil Servant's Manual (This contains all that anybody could ever want to know about why government runs so slowly) and More Gravy Please! - the Politician's Handbook. (available through Amazon)

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