Early May morning,
Jerusalem,
intense solar rays
even at this hour.
On the balcony
morning greetings
of bird song
and traffic growl.
I squint in homage
to sun’s brightness
and clear air
so spiritually saturated.
Old City walls
glitter in the distance,
quietly singing
long before tourists.
My tallit around me
accentuates the heat,
my tefellin so tight
arm markings
will remain for hours.
Words come quickly.
Prayer is easy here,
like calling a friend
across the alley
of my Brooklyn youth.