To place a child
in a niche,
a smooth stone cradle
and let him stand
warm body on rigid rock:
Be a sculpted creature
of pink cheek and wind tossed hair
let the Zephyr bend round your stance
as it bent round an urn,
spun centuries ago.
poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab
On New Years Eve
we drove through the juxtaposition
of ancient hills pouring
into a valley holding
a huge satellite dish.
We drove miles through nighttime
curves, dips, and rises.
We came to a farmhouse
on a rocky cliff.
Inside; the architecture
is air and space and sunlight
geometry.
Lacy ironwork and square tiles.
Cousins who kiss me on each cheek.
Kids scamper all over.
Arabic music and exotic dance
mixes with rock and roll.
My wrists are graced
with gold bracelets-
gifts given to me earlier today.
On New Years Eve
I danced with my blue eyed, blond
Arab husband.
Danced closely
exchanging soft murmurs,
arms around each other
and our newborn child-
a son...
On New Years Eve.
poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab
