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Dreams of Gods, Rivers and Kings

~ she waits for me ~

As sleep

explores little

mysteries of past days

And minstrel of the mind

wanders with abandon,

my being widens

the flower inside

trembles, flares out

becomes an open palm

waits for the dew of memory

to fall…

Like pale elongated commas,

herons of the Nile

roost on fallen tree trunks.

The river moves on green sighs,

papyrus stalks sway on sandbanks

smothered in lush grasses.

I hear again

reed flute notes

from a faluka homeward bound,

with a patched sail curved

like a bruised magnolia petal

full of gusts from the Pyramids

and breath of the Sphinx.

Drunk on ancient rhythms

and muscle memory,

camels sway past me

to treble and bass of