Detail #4
Top Left

Even the oranges arrange themselves in the choreography of the Spherot as they grow within a flowering, fruiting grove.

In the distance
across the sea
are the smokestacks of never
and numbered arms.
Boats of timeless coming and becoming sight the land.
Those who could not find a boat
to cross the water
are carried on an eagle’s back.

The soldiers stand and remember
planes dropping leaflets
fluttering warnings
of protection and escape
to those who’s hate
educated destruction.
The dark tunnel is now
bedecked with flower graffiti.

Children plant seeds and trees.
Uzis became plowshares.

A listening disk
radio astronomy of the spirit
hears distant echoes
rhythmic breathing
the presence of the large letter “hay.”

The spirit is in the notes. That journey from the national anthem of voices
is life giving as rain falls.