In time, the dance
calls, a low whisper
reflected from barrio
walls.
The Alhambra’s halls,
and the beautiful
spires, rising high,
in Sierra Nevada’s
shadow-fall.
In a linen suit,
I will walk
the ancient roads
and peruse the stalls
of siesta-vendors
whose trinkets
gave me pause.
I will hear the cante,
embrace the toque,
and feel the baile,
as the Spanish ladies
give their all.
In her dance,
Granada calls.
©️ Obol, 2018.
Dancer in Red, by Fabian Perez
