Walking back from buying
meat and vegetables for lunch
this morning at Data Street,
I shut the umbrella close
as a thick cloud covers the sun
passing by breezily above us,
above the tiny store
under a fertile rambutan,
where old women whose children
have all but flown away,
nest alongside each other
recounting better days,
while a middle-aged man
on a bicycle arrives
asking whether tomatoes
have dropped in price,
all of which transpires
as the cloud finally
reaches Makiling’s highest peak
on the backdrop where it shall stay
hovering a little while longer
this morning.