On us the fervent sun set

on my 6 weeks of edenic knowing

the eastern loss

of our new mourning,

a disc eclipsed by the Mount of Gilboa

(the place of ancient dying–

that of Saul, not Ruth)

you and I

sharing of the M’sheekha, of liberation and rebirth,

but our friendship closing, lost in

wine and straw                   in the shallow draw above Kibbutz Sde Nahum

——–a temptation lurked,

a warm drink, and a bedded look–

thankfully not to take;

In the last night

for the eternity

of Galilee’s winter rains

I lived in regret.

But in retrospect,

let there be no dead olive memory, no palm branches of

mourning below Gilboa—

Only transcending

remembrance in

the Eternal One’s

Presence.

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