Book Poem: Covenant & Conversation: Genesis: Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

‘ It has been nice knowing you,’ said J-M H
‘good luck with your other courses,’ written
across my first Hebrew assessment and so
the end of a very brief relationship

Amused was I, but regretting not being able
for that wonderful language, wishing to be
Rabbinic, wanting to read the original Torah
text with its twists and turns and subtelties,

The lecturer telling us sometimes flies would
drink the ink in the heat quick as the scribe
could scribe, sabotaging the grammar; later I
read Sacks on ‘Shalshelet,’ that tiny musical

Lightening-slash over a word, indicating
hesitation, caught in two minds, only used
twice in the Torah, with Lot lingering leaving
Sodom, and Joseph before Potiphar’s wife,

Both getting off-side just in time; and Sacks
on the Jewish story, definitively, ‘The last
chapter is not yet written, Messiah has not
yet come’, no ‘shalshelet’ hovering there!

The 3 Trees

Later, much later, the leaves will
turn, shimmering gloriously gold
holding on for dear life

Neither wind nor rain nor sun
yet able to coax them away
from their mothers’ loving arms

Singing ringing syncronicity
silver birches three, ceilidh
in autumn’s blustering beauty

Moment by moment mesmerising
even before it became fashionable
to label gazing, ‘mindfulness.’

Skylight: Working in the loft today, a poem about a previous ramshackle residence.

When I clambered into the loft
awkwardly elbowing myself up off
a wobbly not-quite-high-enough stool

the skylight was already open
and had been for some time,
an expressionless December sky

staring in, a freezing wind in my face
hail pellet-gunning through the gap
with me frantically attempting to

close the shutter with baleing twine,
feeling like Gunter Prien, ace U-boat
commander hastily trying to secure

the hatch in a north atlantic squall;
while at my feet, a dead pigeon
light as an empty glove

the one you always manage to find
at the on-set of winter
but never its partner.