We are in the here and now. 
The whirring and droning
invades the skies with
air polluted so thickly 
we choke on it. 

You meet me under the date palm, 
its sickly, sagging fronds reaching down.
The leafy blades caressing our backs.

From not so far away, 
a staccato clip, clap, clack
cleaves the sky in two.
You huddle up to me
in a quaking embrace. 

Come, I say, wrapping myself around you,
Let me tell you a story. 

We are in the here and now. 
Our bodies are entwined,
your chin resting atop my head,
my tail curled around your legs.
Your whiskers droop down, tickling,
my nose twitches, tail bristling.

We are in the here and now. 
Distant humming permeates 
the air as bees and other beings
hover about the date tree.
Each vying for a taste of sweet,
sticky nectar quaffed from overripe
flesh.

Our bellies are full after lapping from 
craters
of milk sweetened with honey.
Whispered purrs thrum from me to you, 
whilst the clip clopping of hooves 
reverberate about the square. 

We are in the here and now. 
Where the here is home
And now is forever.

The end.