There was always a moment
When the time of the siesta suddenly halted.
Nothing moved
Except the smell of the heat,
As if the hours stumbled on the edge of chaos,
And the women got up
To weave a courtyard of whispers, of little things,
To save the day.

Background: summer in the city- the rich used to go to their summer resorts, the poor ones remained: the guardians of the city. My mother speaks.