Sandstorm on Party Night, Kuwait City.
Uninvited, yet
They all came in, happy
And yelling
From the desert.
Djinns dressed
In sand and wind.
Dancing to their own
Songs –
Wild melodies,
Drones.
Dancers spinning
Skirts of dust,
Spinning round the mango trees,
Spinning orange blossoms
Off the bushes.
They stayed too long,
Loud and restless,
And when they chose to go,
Slowly,
One by one,
Their cries echoing
Down the hidden streets,
Nothing was left
Except their buffeted
Debris.
And for us earthbound,
Solid watchers,
only a sense of bewildered
frustration,mild
Irritation at the dusty
Silence,
The slippery surface
Of things.
The desertion of energy,
The everyday aftermath
Of the unexpected,
The return
Of time.
simonhlilly 