The birds are the most active
I think, on first impression.
That is, until I wander by the monastery and see it’s time for the morning sweeps.
The two young men seem to be attempting to outdo one another.
Both arrayed in their orange robes, one shoulder with cover and the other without. Singular in focus, their bamboo and straw brooms, both shoulders doing the work.
It’s the early morning hour, but the day has begun.
Birdsong everywhere signals we are past the dawn. And it’s time to get going.
So, this industrious community of monks has taken on the task.
They’ve just finished almsgiving, a daily ritual, in which single file processions of monks march streets, and residents gather, lining with donations.
It’s a sacred walk, and there is light in it.
A couple stray dogs join the fun.
Shopkeepers have prepared sticky rice, and a pair of elder monks dole out crisp bills as these young gentleman make their way, silver containers, ready to receive, strapped around their shoulders.
It’s far from a spectacle, measured and reserved, but it is certainly spectacular
And, once the tithing and morning ritual is taken care of
The day’s work begins
Get Up Eight 
Your slice reminds me of what I observed over fifteen years ago on the streets of London (UK). The monks on their “almsgiving, a daily ritual”. You share their attire so well. That orange colour stands out and their ritual is sacred, no stopping and chatting or diversions from the small group. That is a strong tight commitment.
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The scene came alive with your words.
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Part of a daily ritual, but you have given it depth of meaning and significance by describing the details.
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