The intermittent roaring flame
Urges us upward. To the east,
The emerging sun paints shadows:
Cairo, suggested in layers;
The Nile, suggested and unseen.
Slowly we rise into daylight,
Remembering seeing balloons
As one tranquil spot of color
Floating above the new day’s cares,
Ourselves a promise for others.
And still we rise, and rise, and rise,
Seeing the Valley of the Kings
As the ancients never saw it:
From above, in far perspective,
Pasteled, shrunken to a postcard.
Our wicker basket hangs in air,
Drifting; frequently in silence.
Words desert us, both among us
And within us, and we absorb,
And each one dreams forgotten dreams.