Dahab at Dusk

The ember red light of the setting sun
Casts itself like glitter on the ripples of the sea.
Enchanted by the flicker of the gold leaf
Flashing there then there not
On the rose red then turquoise of the sea,
I sit and watch the day’s gorgeous end
And am stroked by the warm sea breeze.
A salted scent drifts through the air
And holds the essence of far away,
Of Arab spice and African jungle heat,
That come to smother me.
The gentle shush of gentle waves
Massage the stony shore.
All is softness at this hour
As sultry day submits to cool night’s sleep.