We sit in this courtyard,two forms, shadow outlines with one soul.
Birdsound, leaf moving, early evening star,fragrant damp, and a sweet sickle curve of moon.
You and I in a round, unselved idlingin the garden-beauty detail.
The raucous parrots laugh,and we laugh inside their laughter,the two of us on a bench in Konya,yet amazingly in Khorasan and Iraq as well.
Friends abiding this form,yet also in another, outside of time, you and I.