Like
swallows they return each year
their
vermilion scarves stirring
in the relentless,
oppressive, scalding
Sciroccos.
They come
amber scented
from
Tunisia
the hems of their
lilac kaftans
fluttering in
zephyr's
white-hot
breath.
They come from
Kashmir
with
mehndi stained hands and feet,
physical
graffiti,
their
silk saris whispering
raginis
pitched to sultry
winds.
They
come from
Cairo
their kohl
eyes
searching the
bazaar
for the delicate spider web
lace,
the
rondels woven by
needle pricked fingers.
They come from
Andalucía
with
jessamine and
geranium
pinned into the lustrous ripples
of their burnished
ebony hair
They come and
they go
to return each year like
swallows.
LAST LAUGH! This poem was requested by Lilipoh Magazine and was published in their Winter Issue 2018. It was also nominated for the Pushcart Prize and won a prize at the 86th Annual Ina Coolbrith Poetry Luncheon, so I guess the 12 people who downvoted it don't know jack about poetry.