The Dance Calls

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.


©️ CGT, 2018.

Dancer in Red, by Fabian Perez

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