Spring’s promise of high summer
has passed, the lush greens gone, and now less vibrant. Parched. Stale somehow. Disappointing.
The promise so much sweeter
than reality; the heady warmth; sun filled days and mirage haze the balmy heat, hot naked nights.
We should enjoy this time, by rights
but if it brings us closer to the fall; the Autumn of our life, if that is all then can we not enjoy the cooling
promised winter chill, another world,
its yielding to the blacks and whites mysterious greys, the icy haze, the freezing hibernation, preserving.
But no. An earlier Spring, that comes
too soon, and sooner still the melting Arctic ice. One day, there’ll be no more dreaming of a summer honeymoon.
© 2017 John Anstie All rights reserved
En Gedi — Wadi David Photograph ©2015 En Gedi
Even lizards hide from this scorched heat.
Tristram’s grackles pant in the shade of skeletal acacia.
Fan-tail ravens float on rising currents like vultures.
David hid from Saul in the strongholds of En Gedi;
along the wadi now named for him, waterfalls
drop warm water onto maidenhair ferns into tepid pools.
Any stippled shade provides shelter from the scathing sun
when hiding from midday heat or close pursuit:
Tristram and Iseult, David, seek shade, ferns, sparkling droplets.
We escape, fugitives from kings
into what little shade we find, wade
into green puddles of desert water,
for brief respite, solace,
a bright glimmer sliding down
an eroding rock face.
Michael Dickel read
En Gedi at the Interfaith Eco Poetry Slam in Jerusalem on 30 June, 2016, sponsored by the Interfaith Center for Sustainable Development. Here is a video of him reading it.
En Gedi Digital Art / Poem ©2012-2016 Michael Dickel
This poem originally appeared in Michael Dickel’s book, Midwest / Mid-East and is published here with the poet’s permission. It first appeared in The BeZine on July 15, 2016.
© 2019, Denise Fletcher
“Odd as I am sure it will appear to some, I can think of no better form of personal involvement in the cure of the environment than that of gardening. A person who is growing a garden, if he is growing it organically, is improving a piece of the world. He is producing something to eat, which makes him somewhat independent of the grocery business, but he is also enlarging, for himself, the meaning of food and the pleasure of eating.” Wendell Berry, The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays