Cagayan River Like a haunt the boat slides down the mirror surface of the river. Mist-filled, mysterious is the dawn soft and cool like a white-shrouded maiden journeying to her vows. Cicadas surrender the last of their songs to the dew-struck air.
Slowly, expertly, the boatman guides the craft towards the muddy bank where awaits the people’s squad, crouched among cogon weeds.
Shocks of ripples finger the water, early light catching hints of glinting metal, as they board quietly, orderly.
A few kilometers upstream the folks at San Mariano await, stories of the past season gleaming in their eyes, steaming rice and a kettle of soup lay on bamboo floor in peasant lodge, eagerly, breakfast for the early visitors. |