A clear mind, a clean forest,
Kayaking in frigid waters, a wall Of snow and ice crashing in The frozen bay, and it all, The spray, the bobbing water, The white-blue sky, the prickly Coldness of the sunny air, The shivers that seize you quickly, Reveal a light that is a presence, That is a wealth, that is settled, Until we are floating, until this is A higher world, until the petaled Creepers strain their pistils, Until planets swing within us, Grave, rich in metals and in Fir forests, rich, drizzling nimbus Clouds on plains of buildings, And we ourselves grow more wealthy In colors that glance through us And infuse with green and stealthy Luminescent buildings that extend Dizzyingly over a misting Waterfall, and we are prepared Above the ground, listing Perilously into the air, To do the most tremendous deeds. Finally, it is everyone, an Entire nation, a field of seeds, Then the sunlight layers the field, And it is blessed with crackling wheat, Hard red spring wheat, prepared For spring, the fertile heat Of June, the blackbirds and the Moles, the memory of age-old Farmers and the covenant they swore, The earth, the river and the gold.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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