Thursday, May 19, 2016

26 toward the Omer

The last thirteen minutes free before the end of the day, not that the next two hours won't contain other personal goodnesses like soup and friend

and I had such high hopes or maybe they were even midlevel, just the notion of space and time and me all smiling with each other

with this notebook and my pen and my hand, and you would be there, whether or not I remembered to notice as such, just like now,

just like that Jen opened the kitchen windows an hour ago and then I forgot and am only starting to know again I hear birds twittering

and even so I have to look to see the wind moving the clusters of burgundy leaves on branches of the tree in the neighbor's yard

and I get it, the pattern of naaseh v'nishma doesn't end, it only fractals, the twin vectors of do and learn forming your tiny little pathways

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