The Shofar from the Street
I rarely go to temple,
Though when New Year comes around,
I do not feel complete until
I hear the shofar’s sound.
Some synagogues stream services;
I listened for a while,
But the rabbi’s talk went on and on
And wasn’t quite my style.
I turned it off and went to sleep,
Yet while I calmly drowsed,
A noise disturbed my slumber
So I suddenly was roused.
It was a shofar from the street
And it was being blown
In the familiar rhythms
That, since, childhood, I have known.
My husband woke up also
To the blasts, both loud and clear,
Which, from right below our window,
Wished the world a sweet new year.
*This is my poem from October 3,
when PoetrySoup was down
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