#2,543 That heat

That heat – of course – &
clatter of Hebrew & kids
& family talk – all details
fly over me [my Ivrit is a
wee offer to their broad
Anglit] & Kibbutzniks sit
in still shade & watch us
fly past on Ruti’s buggy –
like retirees in Florida – I
don a shirt of twenty-ish
summers gone – one left
last time I was here – It’s
Shabbat [of course it is] –
chicken is in – work is off
all agendas – it seems – I
sip black coffees on this
porch my brother built –
his kids [his other stable
constructs] will visit us –
Chilled wine & discourse
will flow later – of course