Dedicated to Henry Rasoff

God has dappled the trees with brush strokes

of gold and persimmon reds,

below, purples and browns, some wildflower heads.

The air has a crisp, apple bite,

a scent of smoke and crushed roses

perfumes the stillness of night.

We thank God for all we’ve received,

Holy, holy, holy, is He!

Our Sukkahs are covered with stalks of sweet corn,

with gourds that look like swirling brass horns,

and our Lulav and Etrog are on display.

Holy is this season so we pray.

See what You have given this harvest!

God gives us grace beating in our breast!

He’s in the breeze through the shivering trees

as the autumn leaves return to Thee.

I wonder will I be a better version of me

if I just keep praying while thinking of He?

Sometimes the motions just seem to repeat,

an endless loop of what’s needing to be.

On and on goes the same melody…

A moment for contemplation of our situation,

now is the time of a new election.

We need to state what we want done in our place,

to actually show our very shy face.

Even the winds have stayed warm and inviting.

Come out!  Come out!  They seem to be crying!

Come closer, closer, closer to God!  How odd!

Voting is truly a holy thing!

If there is a heart within you that beats

muster some strength from your stodgy, old seats!

Find your song!

Tell them what’s right, what’s wrong!

God’s in the will of the people so we all must vote,

 even if we dote on a sacrificial goat!

The apple was given to give us a choice.

His wisdom lies in the footnotes of time,

in and out of so many fine lines.

He gave us the gift of individual thought,

we determine whether we’re sold or we’re bought.