Home ?

Moon-cooled rivers of

Small sharp stone memories

Zig and zag slowly, catching

Every now and then,

Between low-slung

Dark-sky purpled cliffs.

I have walked, sat

Thought, wept and wished

Wondered in this glorious after-space

Oh-so many, many times.

But, in reality, been there once:

The Siq, the candles,

The perfume of the

Single star-dust sundown

When the desert’s quiet carnival

Unfolded gently and

Graciously welcomed me

Home.

Image result for the siq