The photograph above was taken this morning, while walking my grandie to kindergarten. I thought it was complimentary to the poem “Shabbat Day”, by Dobra Levitt.
By Dobra Levitt
Skies of other worlds
In the blue-bright air,
Sides of houses
Where pigeons – mincing – walk,
Fly the doves – the whir and flutter
Of their soaring wings.
Soundless the yellow butterfly
At its play.
Winds lift white clouds
And sift the sand
From earth-bound stones -
Exalted the light
Of this dazzling Day,
Yet strangely close to home.
Elul begins August 19 and ends September 16, 2012. I found this poem, by Rachel Barenblat, that spoke to me on many levels.
If you offer Fortune a beer
she giggles, demurs, because she’s
“born again.” I’m not exactly sure
what that means in Ghanaian parlance
though I imagine a lake baptism
like the one I saw in Galilee,
robes billowing against dark water.
Rebirth is always metaphor.
Forty days to refocus, like a lens,
then Yom Kippur’s labor, singing
and praying, hoping against hope
this year the old words
and hunger’s familiar pangs
will bear new meaning.
The closest I’ve come
was that week on retreat, sitting
until pins crept up my calves, then
walking the fireweed fields rapt
in my prayer shawl. Friday afternoon
we shucked modesty, plunged
in the swimming pool, laughing
and blessing, then a hot tub dunk
to welcome the Sabbath bride.
We could dip each week in those waters.
We could sanctify every morsel.
We could open our eyes and be thankful,
could dwell in that house all the days
of our lives. And we don’t. And that’s
okay. The goldenrod always blooms
five weeks before first frost
and these forty days are for pausing
relearning the Name in every breath
preparing to be open to awe
again, to be ready
to make ourselves born.
Visit Skywatch Friday for more sky photographs from around the world.
August 17, 2012 – 29 Av, 5772
Copyright 2007, L.M. No permission is given to reproduce, copy or use my writings or photographs in any manner.