They must’ve planned it with the wind and the dunes – maybe that’s what all that whispering and rustling was about! At noon, in the Wadi, suddenly, blue and brown melted into a dark roar; and disappeared behind giant beige curtains that viciously whirled their coarse, unfriendly wings. What secrets do they keep from us, the stoic mountains, the temperamental sky, blinding us to their clandestine trysts?
When the dust settles, will they appear unmasked -their naked faces, split open in laughter or streaked with tears, the dregs of their conversation still quivering in the warm mouths of their coffee cups?
eyes drink the familiar light