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