Spell-binding hammer-pounded sunlight retina-

flinches squint-eyed revel-faces.  Crowd folk lost in

head clouds slow-revolve whilst time is on leave, passing

without fail – stopping to tell me not to hurry,

moving on unnoticed, startling late-crowds with

midnights and an early, well spent sun rise.  Band-lulled

we join a synchronised gyro-walk, pacing the

flow-gyratory past food stalls and vaulted halls

of rare imagination, far out folk fusion-

milling in music-union ‘til here, we see

our sun’s last Western pass and in that sunlight, love

bursts the dams and we swear, next year, we’ll come once more.