Baby monks, swathed in orange, four, five, six years old-
Older monks, shoulders bare, forbidden from a woman’s touch
They step aside to let her pass, the temple spires flashing gold
She knows their customs, and moves aside, not even a single hair will brush…
Their golden robes, their mortal skin, the aura that they emanate
Her feet walk on, the road appears- Ahead lies one huge water fight!
Songkran is here, the Thai New Year! And on these streets, no one is safe.
Hoses, buckets, water guns- you have two choices- fight or flight.
Her new red dress now sopping wet, her feet slipping in her shoes
She takes a detour and comes across some youths splashing in a pool.
A fold-up pool, that is all, but they are armed with buckets and balloons-
They soak her again, and she has to admit, though it’s April, at least she feels cool.
Happy New Year! Happy Songkran! Make sure that you don’t leave unarmed!
And if a pack of young monks opens fire with a hose, just surrender, and don’t be alarmed 😉