DOT... LETTER... WORD...
We rise. Even the baby jumping
Spider drinks its mother’s milk.
We dilate and expand, the overtones
Of the glass harmonica, the silk
Is strong, its sheen reflects many
Colors and we love everything,
And mostly every pure soul
Of the Faroe Islands or Ishpeming.
We love the love of truth, of good,
Kindness and the sheen of strands
Of silk, a slug of linotype,
A line of swelling ampersands.
Yaacov David Shulman