Having breakfast in the garden before walking into the Old City was a Saturday ritual if it was not raining. My favorite entrance into Jerusalem’s Old City, Jaffa Gate.
The sun
Dances across my pillow
The call to prayer
Beckons me to wake
The frozen air of the night
Ran back across the fields
The wood stove
burned out hours ago
The cigarettes on the coffee table
Want to be smoked
My purple sweater
Asks to be put on again
The Holy City
Is waiting to be seen
The rain has finally
Decided to stop
