Morning Bus from Be’er Sheva to Jerusalem
In deep predawn lull
at the bus stop,
you can’t see
those you glance at.
Dark is king.
*
From the bus,
dim farmland
dawns.
A small orange sun
peers up unbidden,
adds no light.
*
Cold morning on Jaffa Street:
rivers of gold
pour from azure.
Whatever was asleep in you
is awake.
~
Spring in Ein Kerem
For the pines, it’s not.
For the cyclamens,
it’s all there is.
The pines love it serenely,
another spectacle
of the turning wheel.
I’d love to love it
as the pines do;
but I’m with the cyclamens,
swamped with instants.
~
Night Train
She looked so much like you
I tarried on the platform
and almost missed the train.
Even when the train hauled me off
into autumn dusk,
and I knew it wasn’t you,
a part of me stayed there
still looking at “you.”
And “he” is still there
as I speed off
into the dark.
_________
P. David Hornik, a longtime American immigrant in Israel, is a writer, a translator from Hebrew to English, and a copyeditor in English. He grew up near Albany, New York, received an MA in English from Binghamton University, and moved to Israel at age thirty. He has published three novels, a short-story collection, an essay collection, and numerous short works including articles, book reviews, short stories, and poetry. His forthcoming memoir is Israel Odyssey: Coming of Age and Finding Peace in the Middle East.