The Sea Bird

Through the fire
The daring sea bird
Far from the coastal bay
Flies to the highest pine
His song
Bringing the healing rain.

The Merchant of Scents

The merchant of scents
Sits in a faraway corner of the old souk.
Few tourists find their way back here.

But those unruly ones,
Drunk with love.
Chased away by the guards,
lest they frighten the paying customers,
Always seem to find this place.
Like crazy bees, drawn to the flower.

Wedding Feast

They are setting up the tables for the wedding feast.
Cut flowers at every seat.
Crisp linen and fine china await the guests.

At the gate the dervish stands. 
Asking each arrival, "did you remember to bring the wine?"

The host is embarrased.
But the lovers know: their glass is already overflowing.

To a Fearful Poet

I am working so hard. No words are flowing.

The dervish says:

Just turn and turn again,. dear friend.
The spinner has no judge or master.
Write as if you are dancing to the Beloved.
One breath can release the cistern.

Your words, like prayers on the wings of butterflies,
have sat in this cacoon far too long.

Dye Pots

The dye pots sit in a circle around her.
"You can resist this bath," she tells the unruly wool.
"But it is only in surrender, that your true color is birthed."

In your heart, dear friend, is the cauldron that the Beloved One has stirred.
"Drink up that rich red wine, its color is yours alone.

Ishq

The stars turn in the night sky.
The dervisha spins, recreating that heavenly longing.
"Ishq."

Her light, a beacon of deep return.

Market Day (for Sheilana)

The streets are crowded with jostling vendor stalls.
Every color, every scent, promises a new delight.

The thirsty pilgrims are pushed along by the crowd,
Searching for the Hidden One.
"Where is the Beloved's tavern?" they ask each eager seller.

Exhausted, they rest at the well.
The guardian gently offers an over-flowing cup.
Drink, dear friends.
This is the wine of true lovers.