The word for the future is kindness.
The road climbs through deciduous
Forests, the air is crisp, it stings
The nostrils, the bees are assiduous,
Squirrels and raccoons, at night
A spotlight of wonder is turned on,
The possum is surprised in the tree,
Every meson and the black swan,
The stars are giving light,
The trees are silent, but they strain
To speak. The water offers up its burble,
The trout, the sleeping crane.
Yaacov David Shulman