By Toby Klein Greenwald
A Sabbath morning, late
curled in a recliner reading
a book about past lives
around me more books, paintings
stuffed animals and magazines
the room I call
a womb.
Husband on the patio
with coffee cup, ten feet away
through the open door
reading Talmud
And in the silence of the Sabbath
I hear a bird
The same one that is there every morning
but I rarely hear it because I’m
Busy
This time
close my eyes and just
listen
She’s somewhere in a tree out there
perhaps in the fir tree
or the one that gives purple flowers
for a few weeks in spring
Perhaps on our neighbor’s cherry tree
or apricot or pear
Or perched on a rooftop
watching hills
And I ask husband
“What’s the name of that bird?
I love the song of that bird
whenever I hear that song
it lifts my heart.”
And he tells me
It is a bird called
Freedom.
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Toby Klein Greenwald, based in Efrat, Israel, is a writer, educator, award-winning theater director and the editor of WholeFamily.com
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