The Festival

Twirling, the colours flash past
a blur of clothes, towels, people –
more alluring as a rainbow,
as a mass of colours
against blue-black sea-tumbled stones,
than their individual parts –
they move to the percussive beat
swaying with clapping hands
voices lifted
above the churn of the turquoise waves
faces open, smiling,
local accents thrown out on the wind,
singing, greeting neighbours, families, friends.

I can still taste the honeyed wine sweetness of that evening,
golden,
can still feel its headiness,
the lingering sun’s heat,
the sand sticking to skin thick with salt.

We were welcomed
into a moment of celebration,
the lines we had drawn
between observed and observing
blurred then
as we, too, danced
and sang
and twirled.

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3 thoughts on “The Festival

  1. What a fantastic foray into the alliterative festival 😏 It was cool because it works for so many different imaginings, but no matter what you can still ‘feel’ that sand and the sticky jubilation, the sense of camaraderie.

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