Midnight Mosque
In translucent silence
sapphire-capped minarets
stand like ardent rose buds
under glint of a firefly moon.
Gone are birds of day
like ruby breasted dawn
spilling ashes of roses
on a saffron horizon,
rhododendrons and azaleas floating
up high to burnish
the mosque's ghosted towers.
Through night's brisk lapis
the hushed teal dome bides
wafting apple breezes
as walls and turrets lumber,
shielding the tiled plaza
until morning steeps the landscape
in the aura of peacocks.
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