Imagine

a place without rain

where whiteness stretches its long cracked fingers

above an ancient cave,

ivory rocks and ochre pebbles

the earth jewels that adorn.

Green veins on my hand spread,

startling like a dozen River Jordans,

while behind dark sunglasses

images move listless smoke

from the fires of wanderers.

Their tired horses have braided manes

and eyes darker than shadows.

I blink, and beckoning circles,

laughing voices that charm and cajole

disappear like silver earrings in pale sand.

Sweat drips on cool dirt

by pail, shovel and pick,

I dip my hand into fragments of clay and bone.

Sandra Dreis

Israel,  July 2016

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