Bed and Board by The Silk Road
By Ed Crane
Our outdated French steed sleeps for the night.
The local Caravanserai awaits our tomorrow visit.
In the hush of dusk sound settles with the day’s dust.
Birds and insects rest vocal chords as the air cools.
We eat stuffed green paprikas from plastic tables on an earth floor.
The town’s Minaret pokes up framed by distant hazed grey hills
The call to prayer echos across flat rooves and parched fields.
The ancient hypnotic song gently breaks the silence.
We listen to the unknown words without loss of the calm we feel.
When the salah is over and the muezzin’s gentle voice drifts into distance
we experience a moment of tranquility we can never repeat and an image we can never forget.