Midnight blue tinged with silver
The Serai stands against a star drenched sky
Gate shuttered beckoning warmth and sleep

Fresh flat bread on the iron bell suspended above
The central fire lighting and warming the
Communal travellers space 

Tajanes of chickpeas tomatoes and lamb
On hammered bronze plates ring the fire
Simmering in winter kumis thoughts

Smokey scents and cautious eyes greet
A weary pair off spent buskazhi ponies 
Tested in fierce heat and cold

At a price the loft is theirs with a meal
Fresh straw and protection provided
By unwritten law mandated long ago 

Sheepskins on straw and another above
Cushion their needed rest for tomorrow 
Demands their leaving

They sleep as spoons skin to skin
His hand encircling protective
His palm guarding her beating heart