BlogElul 8: Hear

A Hymn to Words

They listen to the wind 

unravel between branches, 

toss twigs, launch acorns 

No one else is on the trail—

it belongs to them 

Before the sun retreats

they hear their words echo

in the space between said

and unsaid words

BlogElul 7: Understand

Misconstrue

Only three letters

separate understand from—

“to misunderstand”

#BlogElul 6: Want

    Not Yet, Perhaps Soon

Is it selfish to own many wants

when others own a paucity

Some wants remain silent

They carry themselves from

year to year, brushed off,

reworded in the hope that

they will be fulfilled.

#BlogElul 5: Commit

   The Binding

More than a passing fancy,

an intellectual conundrum

It requires a shift in thinking,

a transformation from one

place to another

It requires words said aloud—

each syllable consecrated

To commit to anything

tames the Tightrope Walker

who resides within

#BlogElul 4: Choose

 The Quandary

To choose 

To elect a choice from

myriad possibilities

requires turning away

and turning toward

As if it’s ever that simple

to say either or

when you own both sides

#BlogElul 3: Prepare

Unexpected 

You can’t prepare for

every contingency, our

life writes its own script

#BlogElul 2: Seek

Mending Fences

When you wander

within a maze

barriers alter paths

and force 

a change of direction

I seek a way

to cancel out walls

and mend broken places,

to create a new itinerary 

where paths intersect

and roadblocks disappear

#blogElul 1: Decide

     A False Premise

Some stories rest 
under unspoken words,

beneath layers of years

Shall I excavate 
a buried narrative,

dust off the detritus, 
shake it 

and let it breathe 

The story itself is tame, 
but spools 
into a chronicle 
that rests on a flimsy base

Authentic history 
requires primary sources

Yet, I cannot decide 

Another Space

They sat on either end 

of a honey toned oak table

with mugs of Ceylon tea, 
a plate of shortbread cookies

an earthenware teapot, stacks of books,

and an Appalachian mountain dulcimer

Poetry and music conjured up

sylvan settings where time

expanded and contracted

—and words loosened from boundaries

—and songs without words

set up new perimeters

Improvised sounds carried melodies 

to places 

unencumbered by time

Friends and Lovers

They kept a book of words,

constructed from inverted letters 

and  sounds that lacked 

pronunciation —Each word stood 

in for one  found in a dictionary

They wrote notes saying 

what couldn’t be said

in plain English—They hid

behind their code certain

that no one else knew

their secrets

A Carousel of Forbidden Tastes

I delight in 

falafel sandwiches brimming 

with diced vegetables

 tri- cornered humentashen 

raspberry frozen yogurt

piled four finger’s high

ratatouille made with zucchini, 

purple eggplant, shallots, 

and miniature sweet peppers

I score cucumbers with fork tines

create ringlets of carrot ribbons,

and slice mushroom caps

into moon shaped slivers

i create paninis 

with left-over chicken

years ago

I prepared layers of lasagna

in two pyrex dishes

and left one dish on the table

when I left the house 

to dine with women 

who brought platters

of dining delights
seasoned with spices
I learned to love

The River Stream

             I have a deeply hidden...desire
              for something beyond the daily life.
                     Virginia Woolf

stepping stones led us
around a bend and into
a place of desire

On Alert

Now we have mosquito repellent and tick balm to weather the outdoors. When an errant golf ball disappears into the overgrowth it remains. Remember running barefoot in the grass? According to those in the know we should don long pants, long sleeves, and  a wide brimmed hat before picking a weed.

It’s downright dangerous out there. And in a town nearby an eight foot python left his abode and wanders in the neighborhood. 

Years ago, when I was in the third grade, our school rented an old movie called— I believe— Frank Bring them Back Alive Buck. In that movie Frank allows a twelve foot boa to coil around his torso. It all worked out because three extras unwrapped the coils. 

That night I asked my father to look under the bed, in the closet, and in the shower lest there was a boa in our home. All he found was my grandmother’s ball of twine. 

Hyper vigilance — code words.

Everything Has a Beginning

The road dipped before the rise—
before it flattened out,
my stomach dropped
my breath held still
until we hit the straightaway—
It worked out best 
to keep a foot
on the gas pedal
That summer
we drove back and forth—
seeking the right speed
We ate long strands of red licorice 
and smoked unfiltered cigarettes 
One night when the leaves shook

we stopped at the bottom of the dip

to bathe in moonlight

How long ago 

and yet I recall that road,

and the taste of summer heat

Standing With Others

Tonight I opened up scripture 
and read the readings for Shavuot 
and the readings for Pentecost. 
I counted the days from Passover— 
I counted the weeks. 
Forty- nine days.
Seven weeks.

Tonight the sun went down--
the time for study began.  
I study the proscribed readings—
the lines and verses not mentioned. 
They mingle together—blurring boundaries.

Tonight I am ready to set- up camp,

to unfurl my bed roll and wait

for the pyrotechnics to begin

Everyone—those who came before

and the souls of those unborn—wait

I,too, stand at Sinai