The Back (by Neil)

Flowers, flirtations, jealousy
The last two exist in the mind perhaps as much as reality

The border of decorum is explored by the young and old
The raucous group in the back is peppered with a few staid ones
Perhaps wishing their inhibitions gone as they witness the comingling -
The head covered flirtations of the Middle East

The drum is brought out and beat into a rhythm
Singing brings old men to their feet and drives others to wince

We are two busses – a front and a back

The front consists of quiet couplets talking of the day, cracking open pumpkin seeds, trying to sleep or reflect or converse

While the back escalates in exuberance –
The after-party that began with chit-chat and charades and jokes and riddles now nears its climax

Our busload camaraderie is birthed from 16 hours of shared experience:

An ancient grape pressing center from the Roman with stone channels now laced with cracks from earthquakes and erosion yet smoothed by the bygone harvests’ acidic sluices
A shopping stop for the large yellow pomegranates and orchard fresh persimmons
A hike from Darkoosh below the cliffs of the river through the orchards, past the cave tombs from antiquity, past the goats with their growling guard-dog and smoking shepherds, stopping for a stolen piece of fruit from the tree to relish the joy of plucking and sucking out the sweetness or tartness, a borrowed table from an empty home becomes a rest stop for 4 or 5 of us
At the end of the hike for the young and those who wish to be a scramble up, up, up. We slip our way to caves and shelters and goat pens hewn from the rock to provide a place to weather a passing storm or cold night. Our German and English and Syrian and American whistles and whoops and yodels echo back to us across the fertile valley.
The church atop the hill painted creamy on the backdrop of the olive groves and orchards in the setting sun

And betwixt all – the bus ride.
The stop for supper.
The stop to smoke.
The stop for coffee.

The hours of sitting and the musical chairs seating that brings the familiarity and the exuberance of the songs and the drum and the voices and the glances that say we are happy and we are family and we are friends

We slowly subdue and merge back into whispered gossip

or philosophical discussions laced with smiled affections
Numbers and emails are exchanged
Invitations extended and postulated
The outskirts of the city are lifted as we return to the womb that birthed us
We are home and tired
Another bus trip completed