The buffaloes saunter

In to the midst of evening traffic

Survey the honking drivers gently

and put a stop to their breakneck drive home


With one slow step after another

They trail across the street

In no particular order

As if there is time

To saunter




Drivers look at each other in frustration

And grudgingly smile

What can you do really?

Buffaloes are busy deciding

Whether the patch of grass

Growing from the crack in the carpeted road

Is worth the effort

Despite the noise


Parked in the middle of the road

We wait leisurely

For them to have their snack

And see

the sun slowly sinking in the sky


Sashikala Premawardhane

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