Face pressed to the glass

Out of fresh blue painted steel

Clattering on polished rails

  through fields untouched by time

Sunbaked straw bricks, packed with clay

  drawn from the tumbling muddy morning river

Stand in neat rows, awaiting orders.

Trackside, the lazy cow stretches her neck -

  just a little,

Contemplating. Is that toothsome bit of green

  really worth moving for?

Beyond: her calf in the corn,

  prancing havoc

With hell to pay at dinner

For brother-sister, who instead

  chase each other around the unfinished walls

All in a moment,

  and then they are gone.

Or rather, I am.

This is Peru - they have been here for a thousand years

  and - I must believe - always will be.