His Wrinkled Hands

His wrinkled hands, the texture of sand creases and grooves line the space of his face You notice his gait, a trifle unsteady but at 5:00 a.m., he's prayed, for work he's ready He's a man of the Torah, in the Land of Israel scion of pioneers who drained the swamps, made the desert flower Born on the land, a Jew through and through with his loving wife, raised five 'olive shoots' tho' only two will work the land in their mud-stained boots But that's ok. His strapping saplings will all toil in Torah's well A rich man, he: lived a Torah life on the land, the Land of Israel