At Hafiz’s Tavern
I mingle with friends of all sorts
and folks I’ve never known. But
carefree under a broad and loving
roof we engage in healthy ruckus,
exchange more than a cliché. We dig
fingers into pockets we thought
empty, bring out a common
thread or two, binding these
unrelated lives, making
from flour’s tasteless powder
a moist and wholesome bread.
11 thoughts on "At Hafiz’s Tavern"
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I love this playful vibe!
Turning turn turn..
….” and dizziness does not find me for it is not i that spins but the world” A Sufi
Love Hafiz and your poem has the magic.
I love the image and meaning of finding something in a pocket you thought was empty!
love your rendering of our “carefree” lexpomo space
I love the setting–a common room of community!
Love this description of communion with others.
We dig
fingers into pockets we thought
empty, bring out a common
thread or two,
What a sonically fun poem to read outloud!
Wonderful! I read this differently after reading Gaby’s comment– yes, this space, this community, making our worlds richer. This line “from flour’s tasteless powder / a moist and wholesome bread” is terrific!
love:
dig
fingers into pockets we thought
empty, bring out a common
thread or two, binding these
unrelated lives,
Way to bring your delicious bread into the mix, Nancy! Love “healthy ruckus” – zenlike oxymoron.
What a delightful poem.