The spirit grows, like spirits gold
And every day grows more mature,
And it is raised with loving will
And deeds as green as copper ore.
And like the apple from the tree
That bears its sweetness from within,
Surpasses branch and crown and stem
Its liquors all within its skin.
It knows the paths of life and death
And grows as peaceful as the pond
It gathers wisdom high as kites
Whose wings to joyous wind respond.
Yaacov David Shulman