Camels still,
still remember the water held,
held on shoulder, strong and well.
Well, deep and long.
Long their song. For that water, still,
is passed from well to urn and urn to tongue.

Still is that story sung,
in dromedary’s garbled tongue.
Of fair lady, she, so young,
and servant’s thirsting tongue,
and bangles-dangles strung
and nations, just begun.

You may think this all far-flung,
but I heard it while among,
among two camels slung.
Heard it, in their garbled tongue,
“angles-angles ung”.

Heard it while I hung,
tween two camels slung.
Heard it sloshing in their humps.
Heard it while twas sung
from old to young.

And if you listen strong,
you too may hear
what their ancients sung
in their garbled tongue.
“angles-angles ung”.

© rl busséll 2018

For Wendy, who loves camels.

camel © rl busséll 2018