Threshholds

One of the reasons I love Oman are the beautiful ancient mud and brick buildings in the old towns everywhere. They embody a certain kind of magic for me.

I once wrote this:

What young girl
twirled her skirts and skipped 
across the threshhold of this place?

What old man
hummed and bared his heart,
light playing on his face?

This place so thin
like skin, so strong
Time disintegrates and generations meet
in this precious dusk.