Behind the dykes lie the bright green paddy fields

Homesteads nestle under fruit and timber trees,

Precious space utilised to the last sand grain

And the brown water flows fast and safely past

And life goes on in the held breath between cyclones and storms

And bare feet trample the path atop the dyke

along with bicycle tires and hooves of cows and buffalo

And repairs are carried out as the waves lap eternally

To keep the homes and fields safe

And a shelter is built in the held breath between cyclones and storms

And children run along the path atop the dyke

Laughing and shouting and waving

Trying to keep up with the busy boats in the fast flowing water

And inside a thatched hut a baby is born,

To replace the one lost, in the held breath between cyclones and storms

And bright clothes are hung to dry in the morning sun

Pale brown fishing nets hang artistically from trees

Fish are caught and money saved, sacks of rice stored

Saving for the day, praying it won’t come

Resources put away, in the held breath between cyclones and storms