The easterly winds at the break of dawn
Bring adrift the dune sediments, ashes,
And the divine aspirations.
All thrown,
Into the glory of the morn. Flashes

Of mortality,
Glance then lance at dusk.
The leaves wither, the dripping felines stray.
The jaw, heavy with fatigue, fills with husk,
Of insect shells and the dry seeds of May.

Life in transit,
The fleshly exchanges,
Of late Fall nights and early winter days.
Lonely wanderers at Midnight ranges,
Roam the heavenly spheres in search of plays.

Souls in transit thank Aesculapius,
Whose long due roosters at morn awake us.

Shuweikh,
May, 2023.