We are looking for the road.
Sometimes a wind blows. Sometimes the land is thirsty. The thirst doesn’t cease, it blows Across the plain, it spins Through the town, it is in The bears and in the woodpeckers. Sometimes we feel it on our skin, Its caress is fond, sometimes Streaks of lightning electrify The sky. Sometimes we are riding Where the griffin vultures fly, Sometimes we burrow amidst moles. This thirst always lives in us, Whether or not we know, a crack In the earth, a sinuous Hint of an aquifer, a scent Of water, the water pulsing cold, The kudu with its twisted horns Drinks, frightened, magnificent, bold.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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