Tea in Meknes with
Two cubes of sugar,
Sunlight fading against the
Old city wall.
Come to the market for
Woven rugs, some dates, and a
pot of hammered aluminum. It's
all made by hand, in the way of our
Grandparents,
resting long beside us in the
shadows of the city wall,
whispering of Age-old Empire,
the thunder clap of cavalry riding
Home beneath the tiled gateway
where you sit calmly drinking tea
under a cold December sky.
