Mother and Daughter
Singing of birds
And the rustling of palm leaves
Opposite a broad window
A heart open to the breeze
And knowledge growing
From the pages of a book
A picture burned in memory
A sad girl on the threshold of a house
In the whispering of the garden finds signs
Of love
Loneliness imprisonedamong branches
Escaping from childish joy
“A woman builds a home”
The future predicts
Now a mother and daughter
On a wide leather sofa
Are nurtured by two worlds:
Books and nature
And an arc of light
Connects between them
A bird flying up from a nest
Built outside the window
Like a surprise visitor
Standing on the sill
Awakens in me
Blue childhood birds
In the memories
Joining my mother to me
A spring symphony on the Modin hills
“Observe the month of Abib and keep the Passover
unto the Lord thy God.” (Deuteronomy 16:1)
The sun’s bugle call on the hills, in the gullies
And in fields where a builder’s foot never trod,
Awakens the sleeping from hibernation.
The yellow carpets of daisies and mustard rejoice
Calling me to roam far away.
Redness of anemones like a demonstration
of shrieking peacocks
And Anchusa Strigosa
standing erect to the buzzing of bees
Circling to the nectar
They know in their wise hearts
That nectar is hiding in the little white flower
And not in the anemone’s shouting redness.
Armies of ants drunken on spring plenty
Scurry around like hikers on nature walks
Wearing flowery holiday suits.
Spring pollen irritates sensitive skin
Tickling noses into loud sneezes
The season of transition is like a temporary bridge
To the heavy burden of heat and humidity
In raging summer
Lengthening like an endless path
Empty of spring hikers that escape back
To air-conditioned rooms.
The Judas tree will gather in its fragrance
Will harvest its branches
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