Vientos del Mediterráneo
The call of the Imam
to morning prayer,
a hazy sun
filtered by damp sea air
a play of surf
upon a pebbled beach,
crested waves rush
on rocks
black with time,
veined with quartz,
slick with emerald moss.
Scallops, mussels,
turrets, clams,
treasures of the shore,
marbles scattered
in broken bits
of red brick and violet,
luminous, wet, with
white, slate, and rose.
The spray,
painting graffiti
on the old sea wall,
blown with spicy dust
from the sands of Morocco,
decorate the Spanish coast
with woven rugs
in intricate knots,
filigree brass,
tooled leather,
and finely painted pots.
Black sands inscribed
with white Moorish script,
texts of foam written
in the breaking curls
of indigo waves
upon the beach,
inscrutable messages,
chanting rhythms,
invading from African shores
across the sea.