Sahel

Tall man beneath a straightabove sun
makes his own shade with a blanket
and a stick and folds himself inside
to eat a few dates, close his eyes,
not think about the afternoon ahead.

Young woman beneath a water jar
sways past, stops, returns and fills
an old tin cup with no drop spilled,
exchanges it for a smile, refuses a date,
melts away into the haze and dust.

Tall man dreams he’s a tree, with legs
that curl deepdeep down into the cool,
with arms that reach out and out
across the sand, and no dust in those
breeze fingers through his hair.

Young woman returns, coils herself
around around around his trunk,
reaches upupup with her cupcupcup
and each sip is like the first rain
of the season, over and over.

Tall man is slow to wake, and hot,
but the afternoon, now not so bad.