A sliver of blood stains the eastern horizon:
somewhere beyond those hills
the Indian Ocean is giving birth to the new day.
Soon enough the time of burning heat,
with its confusion of dust and wheels and songs and smiles,
hard sales and shouting voices;
for now, though, all is quiet,
the world is still nestled in dark velvet,
still balanced and cool,
still waiting for that first cock to crow.
No comments:
Post a Comment