Mushav Maor: a Five Minute Poem
And, how should I leave you?
Open expanse, rooster crows,
still mornings over stiff stalks
holding in place their rustle,
their shift
from dawn to midday.
How do I leave you, now?
Stand and stride
back, turn my shoulder
and rub necks with your
spiced air, your
ripe, bitter breeze
that tussles my hair
and tucks behind my ear
your sad smile.
But, should I now, how
could I leave
with your petals caught in my sleeve,
how can I leave
with so much of me here
like a sand cloud
settling over this clear calm?