Evening in Ulaanbaatar

Day starts to end.

The sky a pasty pink,

the bus quiet save for for a toddler’s chatter

entertaining weary,




Stepping o’er feathers

watching summer clothes and heels

tap tap tap in tune with the lines you skip over on the sidewalk.

Smells change with

every other pace –



still unfamiliar


Is it home

when a dog greets you?

Maybe. Maybe not


I am content

to let evening linger


Today is done.

Tomorrow will come

but I don’t need

to think about that yet.

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