They are old, and they are young. They are men, and they are women. They set to work at first light of day, and keep working through the midday heat, stopping only after sundown.
They are the ones who keep the sidewalks and driveways, and terraces and gutters of Guadalajara clean. They are the sweepers.
Brooms and dustpans are the tools of their trade, and they wield them with skill and alacrity.
Litter is no match for the power of their brooms. Stray leaves, cigarette butts, errant bits of paper, and bottle caps from last night’s cerveza—all are helpless before the sweepers.
The litter goes first into a pile, then into a dustpan, and finally into a trash bag, as the sweepers restore order and comeliness to the city’s many streets.
last day of springtime—
even the wind is worn out
from chasing red kites
Text and photo © 2016 by Mark M. Redfearn, all rights reserved