With the Sun

With the sun’s first stretch the door opens the dance of suspended dust and the strands of wool appear in the tubes of light the cold current of wind roams through the woman’s tangled hair she carries the woven kilim saddlebag. Outside, the passage of the event is plain the heavy downpour of the night has washed the lines of the road from the surface and the plain is a page spread out, unmarked before the man’s feet. The woman, in the skein of wool, seeks the lost ends of the threads. On the livid page until noon there fall new lines...