That place of openness

where the stars meet

human frailties;

where we become

one with willows—

bending and stretching amid

myrtle and palm, etrog

pulsing with sweetness–

strength and fragility,

permanence and possibility;

voices plead ”save, please

save”, hands beat away

yesterday’s drying, dying branches.

“Come rain, you living waters.

Fill our skies, our ditches, our hands.

Fill our pitchers, our mouths,our being.

Fill our spirits with rejoicing.”

And between our breathing, brachah—

A blessing, a pool.

Splashing and dancing,

we bend and stretch,

sing and praise,

arms wide to receive,

Torah, to embrace

As children once more.