I watch the faint white steam
Dance upwards from hot sage tea
Leaves steeped
In my mother’s favourite mug
I adore Friday mornings
When I hear my nosy neighbors’
Intentionally indiscreet balcony gossip
Terrazzo tiles / plastic chairs / cigarette ash
When the local fruit seller calls out
Watermelons posed in the trunk of his
Rusty renault / sun faded paint / sunflower seeds
When the only fire
Crackles in the wood-fire oven
Flour dust / circular motions / oil stains
When the only shaking
Is that of a dice rolling
Across a backgammon board
When the only cries
Are those of the neighbourhood boys
Playing football with a makeshift goal post
When my mother gently swirls olive oil
Into the small dipping bowl of za’atar
Melamine / bread crumbs / acidic
When my grandmother pours
Sweet, tart pomegranate molasses onto
Glass jar / sticky cork / viscous
When the air is crisp
With sea salt and windflowers
When the sunlight kisses
The draped balcony
Of our still standing home
Pause / rewind / pause
I adore Friday mornings
