Here she walks in the shade of solitary hills br Hair swaying, skin browned, cotton shirt upon her back br And sandals open to the dust, the camera hangs from her neck br And nestles on her breast. She frames br The silent frontier town that lies before her br With the living shutters of her eyes. br br The crowds in the oasis know the name she's taken. br As one woman, child and man, they name her in their tongue br And with their gaze demand of her and whisper for each other br The reason for her smile, the playtime of her eyes - br A distant lover, transported? Or a letter br Delivered by mysterious means, unseen hands? br br For she is smiling in the solid arms br Of her freedom at each step increasing. No man br Can raise his hand against her, not in rage br Nor with premeditation. No father now br Can make a servitude for her, no mother br Can turn away her face and and close her heart. br br The sun freckles her arms and when it rains br The drops beat languidly upon her roof. br The watchman fans the embers of his jiko br To warn the jealous spouse beyond the gates. br The parokeet has learned to serenade the sunrise br And squarks the phraseology of love. br Witless or wise as she may be, the bird talks for me. br br Like a young child, ready to show her kindest faces, br The future stands at the corner of the dawn br To beckon her to many of these pathways br To make each day more precious than the rain.