Tea in Meknes with

Two cubes of sugar,

Sunlight fading against the

Old city wall.

Come to the market for

Woven rugs, some dates, and a

pot of hammered aluminum. It's

all made by hand, in the way of our

Grandparents,

resting long beside us in the

shadows of the city wall,

whispering of Age-old Empire,

the thunder clap of cavalry riding

Home beneath the tiled gateway

where you sit calmly drinking tea

under a cold December sky.