Awake and Capable
Awake and capable of sighs and sonnets,
I sit at eighty minutes after midnight,
porch-door blinds closed to the sleeping town's
sift and drift of silent-settling snow.
I've told my beads twice over. I've re-read
your e-mail of three hours ago in which
you praise the bright face of the just-past day
and tell of mucking out the poetry barn.
It's Saturday, Shabbat for you. Someday
I'll go with you to temple. And I'll learn
whatever words of Hebrew you might teach me:
Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu,
syllables ever ancient, ever new;
spoken by you, I love them all the more.
Poetry by Uncle Meridian
Read 139 times
Written on 2022-10-06 at 11:21
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