This was our life:
Pleasant sloth amidst
An obstreperous existence,

Frolicking fallowed
Birds gorging on crumbs
For which we fought
Each day at the souk
Wreathing a living;

Each night at home,
Extolling wives who’d
Unknotted the last threads
Of strength for us;

Thanking mothers who
Provided an untrammeled
Evening with churned laban
While a bulbul belched slurred
Chirps and our neighbors yelled
Their goodnights from open
Holes in mud walls,

Forsaking security for
Unquenchable hospitality,
We swathed the hot night
Air in Arab ambrosia,
Before the oil,
Before the wars,
Before we abjured
Birds for money.